


Knights of the Blazing Empire

by DekuDrake



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action, Attempt at Humor, Black Eagles Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Black Eagles Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Crimson Flower, Fluff and Angst, Idiot Kids Being Idiot Kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 103,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DekuDrake/pseuds/DekuDrake
Summary: In the continent of Fodlan, there lies three nations, the Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance, all of which swear fealty to the Church of Seiros.The Church runs the famed Officer's Academy in Garreg Mach Monastery, where many nobles and few commoners gather to learn the ways of war, training to become knights and military leaders alike.One student, an ex-commoner, Ashe Duran Ubert. Born into poverty and spending his first few years watching over his siblings, Ashe was taken in by a gallant knight, Lonato, who's actions and demeanor instilled a great sense of justice, within him.The other, a Faerghus noble, Felix Hugo Fraldarius. After a tragedy that shocked the Kingdom claimed the life of his brother, Glenn, Felix grew cynical and battle-hungry, disillusioned with the systems that keep Faerghus the way it is.With the guidance of an enigmatic mercenary named Byleth Eisner and a dangerous history to fight against, the two will find themselves challenging a world that's left them scarred and in peril, trying to carve out a way to a brighter future, in the midst of a bloody revolution taking shape in the halls they dwell, that will soon swallow Fodlan whole.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 7





	1. To a New Beginning

"Are you alright, Ashe?” the old knight pondered, before tapping his son’s shoulder.

The young boy beside him practically jumped. “Oh, I...” he stammered. “I’m...fine, Lonato.” 

“Are you sure about that?” the man laughed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d thought you’d seen a ghost.” 

“I can’t help it,” Ashe said, defensively, before gesturing towards the magnificent site in front of them. “Never in my life did I think I’d be able to make it here.” 

What had lied before them was the Fodlan-renowned, Garreg Mach Monastery, a sprawling complex that housed the headquarters for the Church of Seiros, otherwise known as the continent’s seat of power, and the famed Officer’s Academy. 

The Academy was where nobles across the three domains of Fodlan would gather and pull knowledge from the continent’s finest, in order to become more effective warriors and nobles. In Ashe’s case, he was there for the opportunity he’d dreamed of for ages, to become a gallant knight just like his adoptive father, Lonato Gildas Gaspard. 

Unlike most everyone else there, however, the wannabe knight was not of noble birth, but rather a former commoner and thief, who’d been lucky to have been in Lonato’s good graces, during one fateful break-in on his estate. 

“Do I deserve this?” Ashe said, shakingly. “Do I really have any right to be among these people?" He shook his head, back and forth. “No, now’s not the time for that.” 

The knight slapped his son’s back, affectionately. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. _I_ am the one who raised you, after all.” 

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Lonato.” Ashe looked up to his father, his eyes twinkling at the magnificent knight before him. "I know how much of an investment this must've been, for you."

Lonato swathed his arm over Ashe's shoulders, smiling down upon him. "Hey, don't worry about it. The important thing is that you're here now, and if the past few years are anything to go by, you've got this, Ashe, I just know it."

As the two were sharing a moment together, a gigantic, deafening scream erupted behind them. “OOOOOOHHHHH YYEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!! Garreg Mach, HERE I COME! WOO!!!”

“Caspar, for the love of the goddess, can you _keep it down_?” Another voice yawned. “I’m still in the middle of waking up.” 

“Oh, come on Linhardt,” The shouter complained. “You can’t expect me _not_ to get a little pumped about this. I can finally show my stuff, here.” 

“Did you need to show it so _loudly_ ?” The other voice shot back. “I’m pretty sure the _Almyrans_ could hear you.” 

The father and son then got up and turned to see two boys around Ashe’s age, the tired one was relatively tall, had long, tied up, green hair, and bags under his wearied eyes. The other, the loud one, was quite short, with a spiked-up head of cyan hair and wore only a black vest and white undershirt, with rolled up sleeves. 

“Okay, now your just-” The blue-haired boy stopped, his eyes now set on the duo. “Oh, hey, there! You a new student here, too?” 

“M-me?” Ashe pointed to himself, slightly startled. 

“Is there anyone else that I’d be asking?” The shorter child said, incredulously. 

“Yes-I mean no-What I mean is—” The silver-haired young man was desperately trying and failing to keep his composure. 

“Good grief,” The elder Gaspard chortled. “Yes, this young man is enrolling here. Say hello, Ashe.” 

“Oh, h-hello, how are you?” Ashe had now become a stuttering, stammering mess. 

As Lonato was holding back laughter at his son’s expense, the blue-haired boy stretched out his hand. “Doin’ good! Name’s Caspar. Caspar von Bergliez. And this buzzkill is Linhardt.” 

The knight then elbowed his son, before giving him a knowing look, and Ashe shook hands with the Caspar. 

“Apologies for _him_ ,” Linhardt had a look of annoyance on his face. “My... friend doesn’t know the meaning of the word, ‘quiet’. He never learned how to mature after age five, it seems.” 

“At least I try and do something, and not _sleeping_ ,” Caspar fired back, grumpily. 

“You really should, it helps tune out a lot of annoyances, like some idiot with a height complex having a shouting match, for example.” Linhardt snarked as the duo stared each other down, the former looking down on the latter, who’d had his chest puffed out. 

“Uh, are you two alright?” Ashe pointed, worriedly. 

“Eh, don’t worry about that, we do this a lot,” the loud young man waved in assurance. “Trust me, this is nothing compared to our old men. We aren’t always like this.” 

Caspar then looked towards Lonato. “This old guy’s a relative of yours, Ashe?” 

The former commoner’s eyes nearly bugled out of his skull. “OLD GU—” 

The spritely lord let out a mighty guffaw. “Yes, I’m his father, Lord Lonato Gaspard, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” Caspar remarked before reaching out his hand. 

Lonato brought out his hand in return and shook Caspar’s. “Though just so you know, I may be old, but that doesn’t mean you should take me lightly.” 

“I’d bet!” Caspar laughed, pumping his arms. “You said you were Lonato, right? I've heard stories about how the King thought you were so tough, he made you a noble! Maybe you could show me what you’ve got, sometime? I wanna see what it takes to earn my way to the top!” 

“Oh, trust me, you wouldn’t last five seconds,” Lonato was now sporting a cocky smile. “Though my son, over here should be able to give you a run for your money.” 

“Lonato, what are you doing?” Ashe gave his father a concerned look. 

“Oh, really?” Caspar’s turned his gaze to Ashe, cocking an eyebrow and wearing a large smirk. “Well, I guess I’ll have to check you out at the training ground, sometime.” 

The future knight was now sweating buckets. “Oh, that’s not really necess-” 

“He’d be honored.” Lonato boasted, proudly. “Just give me a heads up, so I can see it, myself.” 

“You bet!” the scrapper was beaming with excitement. “Hope to duke it out with you sometime, Ashe!” Caspar gave a thumbs-up to Ashe, before proceeding into Garreg Mach with Linhardt. 

“Honestly, Caspar,” the taller child clutched his forehead and complained. “You _just_ meet someone and the first thing you think of is ‘hey, let’s duke it out,’ like some brute?” 

“Hell yeah!” Caspar shouted. “And hey, he seemed fine with it, so no harm, no foul, right?” 

Linhardt shook his head, sighing. “I think someone needs to teach you this neat little thing, called, ‘reading the room.’” 

As the pair went out of earshot, Lonato chuckled. “That Caspar kid is quite the character. Glad to see you’re already making friends. Albeit with my help, of course.” 

“Di-did you _have_ to set up a fight, though?” Ashe's anxiety-filled voice peaked. 

“Like I said, I believe in you, that should be more than enough,” the old man smiled towards his child. “Besides, you said you wanted to prove yourself, so I set up an opportunity for you to do so.” 

The hooded boy sighed. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind. Haven’t also always told me not to rush into things?” 

Lonato then gave him a light slap on his back. “You’re right, there’s no need to rush, but you need to actually get out there, before that can be considered a factor. Rushing and procrastination can both be bad, at the same time. Trust me, things aren’t always going to turn out how you expect them to, so you might as well try and enjoy it, while you still have time...” the knight’s voice then trailed off. 

Ashe looked up to see his father’s now melancholic face. “Are you okay, Lonato? Is something bothering you?” 

Lonato looked up towards the cathedral in the distance, before shaking his head. His eyes carried an inconceivable amount of fury and sorrow unlike anything Ashe had seen before.

“No, I just remembered something I need to see through.” Lonato’s eyes changed from sorrowful to fierce. 

The knight then turned to his son. “Listen to me, I know that whatever you set your mind to, you can accomplish it. I wouldn’t be sending you here, if I didn’t feel that way.” 

Ashe then adopted a determined expression. “While I don’t know about all of that, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure I don’t disappoint.” 

“Good!” Lonato shouted with pride. “I expect nothing less, from you.” 

He then hugged his son, one last time. “Ashe, I want to tell you something. Whatever happens, whatever you or I do, I just want you to know that I’ll always love you, and that I only would do something if I thought it would make things better _for_ you. You know that, right?” Lonato then looked to his son with stern eyes. 

“Yes, Lonato, of course,” Ashe said, confused at his father’s intensity. 

“If there’s nothing else that you can take away from the time we shared, always remember that,” Lonato then began to move towards the exit. 

“Alright, I think it’s time that I head out,” the old man grunted. “Make me proud son, I love you, may the Goddess be with you.” 

“I will, and I love you too, Lonato,” the boy said, voice full of resolve. 

Lonato then took his leave, waving to his son, before departing back on the road he came from. 

_I can’t-won’t let him down. I have to pay him back, for everything he’s done for me._

Ashe then moved inwards, towards the massive abbey, as anxious as he was completely determined. 

* * *

After Ashe had everything settled in his room, he ventured out to the Officer’s Academy. As he is a resident of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, the young knight was to be a member of the Blue Lions house, representing the Kingdom and led by none other than the crown prince of Faerghus, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Not only was Ashe going to train in the most prestigious institution in all of Fodlan, but he was attending classes with the leader of his homeland! Naturally, the boy was immensely nervous. 

_Please, for the love of the Goddess, don’t make a bad first impression, Ashe. The last thing you want is to get on the future king’s bad side_ . 

And if _that_ wasn’t enough, not only is the prince of Faerghus enrolling, but in the two rival houses, the Black Eagles of the Adrestian Empire and the Golden Deer of the Leicester Alliance, also have _their_ future leaders, Edelgard von Hresvelg and Claude von Riegen, attending as well! It seems that this year will be one for the Garreg Mach history books. 

But more than anything, right now, Ashe needed to make a positive first impression with his fellow Lions. Outside of the occasional visitor to Castle Gaspard, Ashe didn’t have much in the way of friends. He loved his brothers and sister dearly, but they were his siblings, not just normal friends. And as the knight in the making approached the classroom, where he’d meet his classmates, a wave of anxiety washed over him. 

At the same time, however, Ashe was immensely excited at the opportunity to meet his classmates, to even get a peek at the sort of life the most powerful in the nation, in spite of how selfish that may sound. 

_If they’re some of the Kingdom’s finest, then surely, they’ll make for great company._

“You’re absolutely unbelievable, Sylvain,” a girl’s deep voice bellowed. “Can you possibly think of something _other_ than hooking up, for once?” 

“Come on, Ingrid,” a smarmy voice whined. “You have to admit that that brunette was quite the sight.” 

“Oh, yes, seeing the disgust on her face, before _I_ had to come in to stop her from mangling you was quite a sight,” the girl scoffed. 

There were two nobles beside the doorway. One, a tall, handsome man with a bright red mess of hair and an unbuttoned collar. The other, a beautiful young woman with long locks of blonde hair and a stern, exasperated expression. 

“Look, how was I supposed to know that Dorothy girl was going to react like that?” the red-haired man placed his hand on his chest, feigning sincerity. “I was just trying to be nice and invite her out on a nice dinner, and all _she_ did was berate me.” 

The woman crossed her arms in indignation, with her brows furrowed. “Maybe if you hadn’t gone and literally tried to get her into your bedroom within five minutes of meeting her, you might’ve not angered her. Imagine that, not being a smarmy dunce might keep you out of trouble.” 

“Hey, I was just asking for a lovely evening, nothing more,” the man placed his hands behind his head. “Forgive me for not knowing she’d take umbrage with that.” 

A raspy voice blared from within the classroom. “Ingrid, stop wasting your time on him, you already know he’s just going to try and get with some other girl by the end of the night. He isn’t worth it.” 

“Woah, harsh, Felix.” The taller gentleman complained. “I don’t know why you two have to get so mad about me just trying to make for good company, with another student.” 

“Ah, yes, good company.” Now the voice was ever closer. “Like all the times you drifted off to flirt while I was trying to train with you. You know, trying to do something with you that you originally said you wanted to do, because some woman passed by. Or how about all the times I had to save _ou_ when you nearly got yourself killed being obnoxious and not taking an _invasion_ _of_ _your own territory_ seriously?” 

A young man around Ashe’s age appeared in the doorway. He was a good deal shorter than the red-haired man and had a tied-back bun of dark blue hair. He was supporting a large scowl, with eyes full of venom, towards his classmate. 

“Um... hello.” Ashe meekly waived his hand. 

The three then turned to the hood-wearing boy, and the girl’s face turned beet red. “Oh... how much of that did you hear?” 

“...Right around the time where you called the taller one, ‘unbelievable,” He sheepishly replied, scratching his chin. 

The blonde woman pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I’m so sorry about that, forgive my friends for being... them.” She pointed at the two men near her. 

“Hey, I wasn’t one of the ones shouting.” The red-haired one remarked, putting both hands up, defensively. “And I’d like to apologize for how rude those two were. I’m Sylvain Jose Gautier, delighted to meet you.” He then winked at Ashe. 

“I-I’m Ashe, I’m honored to meet you too, Sir Gautier.” Ashe bowed towards the taller noble. 

The blue-haired one scoffed, the girl snickered, and the taller noble sported a massive grin. “Well, at least _someone_ knows proper manners! And no need to call me ‘sir,’ just call me Sylvain, we’re all friends, here.” 

“Of course, Sylvain,” Ashe stiffly replied, in a vain attempt to sound natural. 

The blonde girl regained her composure. “And I’m Ingrid Brandi Ga—just call me Ingrid, Ashe.” 

The pale boy’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Understood, Ingrid.” He couldn’t even face her, only feeling shame for his awkwardness. 

_Well, there goes making a good first impression, it seems. Why do I have to get like this, now, of all times?_

The boy with blue hair crossed his arms. “The name’s Felix Hugo Fraldarius, I don’t really care what you call me.” His line of sight remained far away from Ashe. 

Ashe then stood there, uncomfortably, not sure of what to say or do when suddenly, a deep, masculine voice arose behind him. 

“You know Felix, you could try to be a bit more approachable, to the boy.” 

Behind the former thief was a tall, blonde noble sporting a blue half-cape on his left shoulder, wearing a more ornate version of the standard male uniform for the monastery. 

“Ugh, don’t lecture me on how I act, boar,” Felix’s voice was full of scorn. “I’m not about to put on airs about who I am, unlike a certain wild animal, pretending to be royalty.” 

_Wait, royalty?_

“I see somebody is happy to see me.” The blonde man sighed. “Felix, would it kill you to try and be a little nicer, every once in a while?” 

An aura of contempt surrounded the smaller noble. “Again, stop lecturing me, you beast. I serve no one, least of all you.” 

A frown replaced the man in blue’s friendly expression. “I don’t get it, what did I ever do to make you so furious, with me?” 

Felix began to approach the taller gentleman. “Two years ago, outside Galatea territory, does that sound familiar to you?” 

The so-called boar grasped his elbow with his hand. “You’re referring to that rebellion, correct?” 

Felix gritted his teeth. “Yes, and thanks to that, I know who you are better than anyone else here, and believe me when I say that everything about you makes me want to vomit. How about you do everyone a favor and quit pretending to everyone that the person that stands before me is the real you, you monster.” 

Ashe, in attempt to defend the blonde man, walked forward to intervene, but before anything else could happen, Sylvain placed himself between the two men, “All right, guys, let’s all cool off, before we do something stupid that we might regret. Right, Your Highness?” 

_YOUR HIGHNESS!? As in Prince Dimitri? How can Felix just hurl abuse at the future king of_ _Faerghus_ _? What does he think he’s DOING?_

The prince nodded. “Yes, let’s all settle down, we’re friends, after all.” 

“Pah!” Felix exclaimed. “Friends, right. As if I’d ever be friends with a wild beast who delights in watching his prey get ripped to pieces. I only align myself with actual people, not a creature with the façade of a human being.” He then left the academy grounds, with a grimace on his face. 

The prince looked on and sighed. “I see he’s still going to be difficult, here.” He then turned to Ashe. “I’m really sorry about my friend, he can be a bit on the course side, when he wants to be, but I promise that he’s not always like this.” 

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” Ashe started waving his hands in front of him. “I walked in on a really bad moment, it was my fault, really.” The silver-haired boy then rubbed the back of his head. “Is it really okay for him to be talking to you like that?” 

Dimitri amicably placed his hand on Ashe’s shoulder. "I can handle myself, there’s no need to worry... you said your name was Ashe, correct?” 

“Yes, I’m Ashe Duran Ubert, Your Highness. I’m the adopted son of Lord Lonato, from Castle Gaspard, I—” 

“Oh, you’re Lonato’s son,” the royal’s eyebrows raised. “The same Lonato who...” his voice trailed off, with a disturbed expression on his face. 

“Whose son involved in the Tragedy of Duscar, yes.” Ashe’s eyes were now fixed on the ground. 

A combination of rage and immense sorrow shrouded over Ingrid’s face. Sylvain, meanwhile, was whistling to himself, clearly uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful.” Dimitri said, with his face showing a mixture of guilt and pain. 

“It’s alright, you’re correct, Christophe had dealings in the Tragedy, ones that I’ll never understand, but that’s in the past, now, Your Highness.” He was lying, of course, anything regarding the Tragedy of Duscar was a painful and taboo subject in Castle Gaspard, and for good reason. “Regardless, I’m here to represent the Gaspard family name, even if I can’t exactly say I’m deserving of it.” 

“Nonsense.” The prince shook his head. “I’m sure Lord Lonato would disagree with that, and you’ve given me no reason to think you didn’t belong, here. So, you’re here to become a knight, I assume?” 

Ashe perked up instantly. “Yes! Ever since I was really young, I always wanted to be a knight. Their great sense of camaraderie, their unwavering sense of justice, their immense mental strength, their ability to gloriously triumph in the face of incredible adversity—” 

Sylvain burst out laughing. “Well, Ingrid, we found someone you could fully nerd out with!” 

Ingrid began to blush, again. “Shut up, Sylvain!” She then jammed her foot in Sylvain’s shin, making him yelp. 

The wannabe knight looked at her incredulously. “You admire the knights, too?” 

“Yes, since I was a child, like you.” Ingrid was now nervously playing with her hair, smiling all the while. “I'd been in awe of their incredible fortitude and their amazing might-” 

“And their brilliant armor.” Ashe interjected, excitedly. 

“And their unshakable bravery.” Ingrid ecstatically replied. 

“And their incredible selflessness.” 

“And their undying loyalty.” 

“And—” 

“Okay, you two, we get the point.” The philanderer laughed. “Save the fanaticism for later, will you?” 

“Sylvain, would you just put a—” Ingrid began to shout, before a hand tapped the back of her shoulder. 

“Hello.” The group looked behind the lady knight and found a woman who looked unlike anything Ashe had ever seen before. She wore a black armored shirt that exposed her navel, a jet-black coat that was cut off at the sleeves, a high-cut pair of shorts and floral tights. She also had an unkempt, but no less beautiful mane of dark teal hair and bright blue eyes. “You guys are the Blue Lions house, right?” she bluntly asked. 

All Ashe and Ingrid could do was stare, meanwhile Dimitri walked up with a look of jubilee on his face. “Why yes, it is! Everyone, this is Byleth. Sylvain, Ingrid, this is who I was talking about when I said I was saved from a bandit attack, last night.”

Ashe’s eyes then immediately widened 

_Wait, WHAT!? Someone attacked His Highness? How can he so calm, about it!?_

“Anyway, she’s apparently going to be a professor, here. Have you gotten to know everyone else, at the Monastery?” 

“Yeah, mostly.” Byleth responded, flatly. “I met those other Blue Lions girls, Mercedes and Annette. They seemed sweet." 

“And have you seen Felix?” he rubbed the back of his head, nervously. 

“The grumpy kid with the sword? Yeah, I saw him, he was really pissed off.” Her expression and body language barely changed, if at all. “First thing he did when I saw him a while back was tell me to pick up a sword so he could, ‘see how a mercenary like me would handle his blade.” 

Ingrid groaned, Sylvain let out a sighing laugh, and Dimitri just shook his head. “I apologize for that, whenever Felix sees someone who he deems strong, the only thing that crosses his mind is if he can crush them.” 

Byleth shrugged. “It wasn’t really any trouble. He cut it out after I knocked him down, quick, so no harm, no foul.” 

Now Sylvain was grinning, ear to ear. “Wow, insanely beautiful _and_ strong. You might want to be careful, professor, I might just fall in love.” Immediately, Ingrid started staring daggers at Sylvain. 

“This guy the voracious one that I was warned about?” The mercenary blankly asked. “Dorothea mentioned to me about how you, ‘looked at women like a predator hunting his prey.’” Byleth pointed at the flirt. 

Ashe covered his mouth, trying to hold back a laugh, whilst Dimitri held his mouth agape. 

Ingrid, meanwhile, could barely contain her laughter. “Seems like somebody's already a fan of yours, Sylvain.” 

“So, this is what I get for trying to be nice and pay someone a compliment, huh?” He grumbled, looking away from everyone else. 

Byleth then shifted her attention to Ingrid and Ashe, her expression unchanging. “And you two?” 

“Ingrid,” she said, whilst still calming herself down. “I’m from House Galatea. It's not exactly the wealthiest family anymore, I’m aware, but I’m trying to fix that.” 

“What about you, kid?” The mercenary pointed her finger at Ashe, nonchalantly. 

He began to awkwardly fidget in place. “Oh, I’m Ashe Ubert, I’m from House Gaspard, I’m here as a knight-in-training. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then, without thinking, he bowed to her. 

The trio of friends began to snicker as Ashe realized that he was acting overly formal, again. 

_Again, Ashe? Really?_

“Same.” The woman reached out her hand to Ashe. 

Thanks to his nerves, him a moment to process what was going on. “Oh, right—thank you,” Before shaking her hand, before realizing that he thanked someone for a simple handshake, further embarrassing himself 

Byleth very lightly chuckled. “Anyway, I need to go see the other house, the Golden Deer, I think it was? Apparently, I get to choose which class I’ll be teaching. Later.” She then waved her hand before heading to the next classroom. 

“She’s an interesting one,” Ingrid smiled. 

“'The voracious one', huh,” Sylvain bitterly laughed, shaking his head. “Nice to see I already have a reputation, now. And to think, I was just being nice.” 

“Was she _wrong_ , though?” The blonde girl bore an immensely mocking grin, her classmate’s way. 

“Think of me how you’d like, I was only making conversation with her.” The philanderer shrugged, lackadaisically. “Regardless, good seeing you, Ashe. Now, if you excuse me, there’s a beautiful older woman with long blonde hair nearby that’s caught my eye, be seeing you!” He then darted away from the classroom at full speed. 

“Sylv—” Dimitri began to shout, then stopped, as if realizing that it was a pointless endeavor. “Well, now you’ve met the majority of our house. I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly the warmest welcome.” 

“There’s no need to apologize,” Ashe shook both his hands in front of him, furiously. “I’m sure everything will be fine, once I’ve fully settled in, with everyone.” 

“Nevertheless, we’re happy to have you here, Ashe,” the future king smiled, before slamming his palm into his classmate’s back. Suddenly, Ashe’s whole world faded to black. 

* * *

When Ashe came to, he was on a stark white bed in a room he’d never seen, before. And as he got up, a sharp, excruciating pain enveloped his body. It took everything not to scream out in anguish. 

“Oh, thank the goddess.” Dimitri sighed with relief. “I’m so, so sorry about that, Ashe, I didn’t quite know my own strength, right there. You were out for quite some time.” 

The prince was sitting down in a chair nearby his bed, with Ingrid seated on the opposite side, the latter bearing an extremely worried expression on her face.

“Your Highness, you nearly killed him,” Ingrid said, in an exasperated tone. “You have to learn to control your own strength, it’s bad enough when you accidentally break your _weapons_ , when you train, let alone a _person_.” 

“What... happened?” Ashe was straining to speak, from the pain. As he looked down, he noticed several bandages wrapped around his upper body. 

“It seems the strapping young man got a bit carried away, when trying to be friendly,” Ashe looked towards the corner of the room to find an older woman. She had medium-length, brown hair, and wore large, white cloak over her shoulders and a revealing, green dress. The woman then began to walk near the trio. “Thankfully, after patching you up with magic and some good, old-fashioned medical supplies, you should be more or less fine, after two days of rest.” 

Ashe’s eyes immediately widened upon receiving that revelation. 

_Two days!? What did his Highness DO to me?_

“Again, I’m so sorry about hurting you. I-I didn’t think that I—” Dimitri bowed his now burning red face, trying his hardest to hide his embarrassment. 

“All’s forgiven.” The young knight gestured his palm forwards. “I know you really didn’t mean to harm me.” Ashe wanted nothing more than to keep His Highness calm, at this point. 

“Well, look at you.” The older woman poked Ashe’s nose. “Aren’t you such a sweet young man? Oh, I could just eat you up, right now.” Ashe started to blush, furiously, as Ingrid and Dimitri turned their heads away, trying to hide their smirks. 

“Oh, don’t be so bashful, little one.” She then tussled his mess of gray hair. “My name’s Manuela, by the way, the monastery’s nurse.” 

“Thank you for patching me up.” Ashe rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly. “I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you.” 

“Oh, stop it, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Manuela now had a noticeable frown. “It’s not your fault for getting injured, there’s no need to worry, for my sake.” She then turned to Dimitri. “And as for you, Your Highness, you may be royalty, but I don’t want to hear about another incident of you accidently injuring someone, understood?” 

Dimitri’s eyes darted towards the ground. “Understood, professor.” 

“Good.” she then gave Ashe a set of herbs. “These will help numb your pain, for a bit. And would you two be so kind as to take this adorable young man back to his room? We can only have so many visitors at a time, and apparently one of the Adrestian nobles was picking a fight with another student earlier, so now I have to attend to that.” 

Ingrid and Dimitri nodded, before helping lift Ashe up. He was wincing in agony, but tried his damndest to keep from making a scene. 

“Have a good night, dear.” Manuela waved. “Try to get some rest, now, okay? Wouldn’t want to see such a cute face in so much pain.” She then winked at the injured boy, causing Ingrid and Dimitri to snicker, at his expense. 

“U-understood.” His face was once again red hot, with embarrassment. 

* * *

It was an arduous trek back, not helped by them being on the exact opposite side of the site as Ashe’s dorm room, but eventually they made it without too much trouble. 

“Thank you so much for helping me back, you really needn’t bother yourselves with me.” He mumbled to his classmates. 

“Relax, it’s the least we could do.” Ingrid smiled, assuredly. “We weren’t about to leave you to walk _all_ the way back to your place, in the state that you’re in.” She then turned her eyes to Dimitri. “Especially since getting hurt wasn’t _your_ fault.” 

“How many times do I have to keep apologizing?” Dimitri had his brows furrowed. 

Ingrid huffed and pointed her nose upward. “Until our new friend can move around on his own, again. You _really_ have to learn how to get a better hold on your own strength, Your Highness. With all due respect, you can’t keep accidently breaking things, because you can’t control yourself.” 

As the two were bickering, Ashe was looking towards the ground, finding it too awkward for him to butt in. 

_I don’t want to just let His Highness continue to get yelled at, but if I say anything that gets him going, I’m risking him hurting me by mistake, again. And I like being able to move._

Thankfully for Ashe, the trio had arrived to his room, before the conversation could escalate. 

“This your stop, Ashe?” Ingrid asked. 

“Yes, again, thank you both.” He nodded, sheepishly. 

“If there’s anything else you need help with, feel free to ask me or my retainer, Dedue. I think he’s just one dorm down, if I recall correctly.” The prince then pointed to the door to the right of Ashe’s. 

“Understood.” Ashe then yawned loudly. “Okay, I think I need to turn in, for the night.” 

Dimitri nodded. “I understand, you were in pretty rough shape. I hope you get well soon, Ashe.” 

“Thank you, good night, you too.” The boy smiled and attempted to wave back to them, before the pain quickly set back in his spine. As the two waved back and left, Ashe shut his door and collapsed onto his bed, wanting nothing more than to lie down. 

_That could’ve gone better. A lot better. But I’m at least making a better impression on some of the students than I feared, so there’s that._

_Ingrid seemed like someone I’d get along well with, and it’s great that I have someone to talk to about knights, and not worry about boring or annoying them. Sylvain, on the other hand, seems like someone who’s going to get into trouble, more often than not, so I might need to look after him. Felix, I have no idea what to think of. He looks like someone who’d get easily angered, so maybe I should watch my step around him. How he gets away with the treatment of His Highness, I’ll never know._

_And those other two, Caspar and_ _Linhardt_ _, I think? I wonder what those two are up to? Caspar’s really energetic, perhaps too much so, but he seems friendly enough._ _Linhardt_ _just seems tired, not much else I can gauge from him, though._

_That Byleth, though, she seemed like something else. If the Prince and Felix are any indication, she’s quite skilled, but I couldn’t make anything out of her, otherwise. I’m curious if she’ll actually join up with our class, however_ _._

The pain in Ashe’s back started to worsen, erupting all throughout his upper body. 

_Might as well get some rest, while I can, before it gets worse._

The young knight then tried to get a good night’s rest, but his aching caused him to constantly go in and out of consciousness, throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'd like to apologize in advance if the first few chapters are on the duller side. Introductions aren't exactly my strong suit, unfortunately, and I hope I can pick up steam soon. That goes double for Ashe, because being nice and a wannabe knight aren't exactly easy character traits to stretch out from chapter to chapter, so when he gets more to do in the story, he'll get much more fun to write and hopefully fun to read about.
> 
> \- Because we aren't given too much about Lonato other than he's pious, loves his kids, is a good/charismatic knight, and hates Rhea, I decided to have a bit of fun with him in the first chapter and make him a bit more affable. I want to give him at least a fun moment or two before Mutiny in the Midst starts up.
> 
> \- Trying to make a balancing act between sympathetic and somewhat violent for Dimitri is definitely going to be an interesting challenge, going forward. While this *is* a CF fic, Dimitri is still going to have to play a huge part in this, and I want to do as much justice as I can, without making him too nice and understanding or like some dumb rage beast. The same goes for Felix's nice side and cynical outlook. That said, I will happily play up Dimitri's strength, for all it's worth.
> 
> \- As this is also an attempt to get better at writing, in general, any constructive criticism is appreciated. I want to make this a fun read, not some self-indulgent writing exercise (at least, not *just* self-indulgent, anyway).


	2. Life at Garreg Mach Monastery

The next day, Ashe was rushing to the Blue Lions classroom. His back, while still hurting, wasn’t in nearly as bad shape as the night before, in part due to the herbs Manuela gave him. However, the constant waking up and falling back asleep did a number to Ashe’s sleep schedule, meaning that by the time he properly woke up, he was already behind by a decent margin. 

_How am I already late on my first day? Please, please, PLEASE let me at least make it before class starts._

The boy booked it towards the doors of the room, to find class in session. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I didn’t mean to oversleep, I promise.” He bowed his head in embarrassment. 

Once he looked up, he noticed that the room was completely devoid of anybody, not a student nor professor to be found. 

_Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. I CAN’T have just missed an entire day of class. _

"Someone’s here early,” a voice called behind him, causing Ashe to yelp in surprise. When he turned around, he saw Felix standing behind him. “I was hoping to catch some peace and quiet, but I guess you had to show up, before I did.” 

“Oh, sorry, I—” Ashe began to stammer. 

“What are you apologizing for?” Felix scoffed. “It’s not like I made my plans known to everyone.” 

“Right,” Ashe scratched his chin, nervously. 

“I heard the boar messed up your spine,” Felix pointed. “I guess whatever that songstress did worked its magic on you. Not many people walk out from that freak’s wrath unscathed.” 

“I wouldn’t say unscathed, but I am feeling a bit better,” Ashe smiled. “Thanks for asking.” 

“Wasn’t really asking,” Felix shook his head. “More just observing.” His eyes darted around the empty classroom. “So, where are you sitting?” 

“Oh, you wanted to sit by me? Why?” the boy looked him, confused, yet excited. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Felix placed his right hand in front of himself. “I just need to find a seat where neither the boar nor Sylvain can sit next to me. I can only put up with those two, for so long.” 

“Oh, my mistake,” Ashe said, deflated. He instantly tried to figure out the best place to sit, and in his haste, he said, “How about the front? Sylvain doesn’t seem like the type that’d want to be away from the exit.” 

Felix rolled his eyes, before letting out a resigned chuckle. “I don’t relish the idea of being up front, but you _do_ have a point about Sylvain, that lech would want nothing more than an easy exit to flirt.” 

The two moved towards a desk in the front row, with Ashe in the center and Felix on the outside seat. 

The first thing Felix did was loudly slam his books down on the table, without a care, “Any reason that you’re here, so early?” 

“Oh, w-well I lost track of time,” Ashe’s voice was in a scramble, trying to defend himself. “I didn’t exactly have a great night’s sleep, and I saw the sun and immediately thought I was running late, so I sprinted here. I can't say it really helped my back issue.” 

“Screwed you up that bad, did he?” Felix scoffed and frowned. “That doesn’t surprise me, that creature loves pretending to be a man, only to cause untold damage to everything around him.” 

“All he did was try to give me a friendly slap on the back,” Ashe protested, his face tensed up. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me. Is there something... going on, between you two?” 

Felix looked down on the table, sporting a forlorn look on his face, and sighed. “Right, you haven’t seen him when in battle. Let me tell you something right now, he’s a monster, when his excitement is roused. He delights in his culling of others.” His face turned from somber to disgusted, his eyes piercing directly through Ashe. “A couple years back, when he and I were stamping out a rebellion, the way his face just... I’d never seen such a mixture of intense malice and disturbing joy in my entire life. To think, the man—the _thing_ that I once called friend was capable of... that. You’d best not to be on the other side of his blade.” 

Ashe audibly gulped. “You’re exaggerating... right? There’s no way the crown prince would actually _enjoy_ slaying others.” 

“Oh, you’ll learn, soon enough,” Felix shook his head, in dismissal. “I heard something about a mock battle, next week. He won’t get the chance to kill... I think—so he’ll be somewhat restrained.” He pointed at Ashe, looking into his eyes with an ungodly fierce expression. “But watch how he fights, if you end up taking part, and you’ll find something a lot more animal than man. And if not at the mock battle, then during whatever mission the church decides to send us on.” 

Ashe now looked horrified and in utter disbelief. “I’m not saying this because I’m trying to scare you,” Felix's gaze was now fixed upwards, towards the ceiling. “Nor am I doing this to make fun of the boar, well, not _solely_ , anyway. You have no idea the horrors you’ll see unleashed, when he gets going.” 

As the two sat in silence, a familiar voice chimed in, from behind. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you here so early, Felix.” The two turned around to find Ingrid, standing in the doorway. “Let me guess, you didn’t want to sit near Sylvain, either?” 

Felix cracked a small smile, chuckling. “Great minds think alike, I suppose. Not going to apologize for taking up a seating partner, though.” 

“Why are you even up that far anyway?” Ingrid chided. “I thought you hated being in class, and now you decide to stay furthest from the exit?” 

“Blame him,” Felix pointed his thumb at Ashe. “It was either guarantee I sit with someone I don’t hate in the front or gamble with my life in the back. I chose the lesser of two evils.” 

"Well, now I guess I’ll have to hope and pray either His Highness or one of the other girls in this class sits near me,” Ingrid shook her head. 

“Eh, just do what we did and sit up front,” Felix waved and then pointed again at Ashe. “This kid had the right idea. Sylvain would sooner die than sit away from where he could leave to go prowl.” 

“Fair enough,” Ingrid chuckled and moved towards the front. “Thanks for being a lifesaver, Ashe.” 

“So, I know he can be a bit… unsavory,” Ashe commented, as he twiddled his fingers. “But is there any other reason for such hatred, or is he _really_ that obnoxious, with his philandering?” 

Ingrid laughed and waved her hand down. “Hatred’s such a strong word—” 

“But _not_ inaccurate,” Felix snarked, pointing up his index finger. 

Ingrid place her hand in front of the side of her face as she whispered to Ashe, “Don’t listen to him, he’s actually a big old softie, deep down.” Felix scoffed and rolled his eyes in response, while Ashe chortled. “We both love Sylvain—it’s he can just be... a bit too much. A lot. As in throughout the majority of our day, every day.” 

"You’re far too kind about him, Ingrid.” Felix put his feet on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “He’s insufferable. He goes on, and on, and _on_ about women, and never gives a damn about other people, when he pulls something. I’m just... so sick of trying with him. He’s been like this for years, and it’s gotten really old.” He then sighed. “Honestly, I’m just glad I have even _someone_ here that I can somewhat tolerate.” 

“Aw, thanks Felix.” Ingrid placed her hand on her heart, with an insincere smile. “I can somewhat tolerate you, too.” Felix rolled his eyes. “So, I heard from that new professor that you decided to challenge her and lost.” 

“Pretty damn badly, yeah,” Felix was now sitting upright in his chair and absolutely beaming with an infectious energy. “That woman was something else, she's quite the dirty fighter.” His voice kept progressively getting louder, his movements now livelier than Ashe had ever seen. “I barely unsheathe my sword and she just slams her blade against mine, in an instant.” 

Felix got up and started mimicking every action in their fight. “And by then time I catch my breath, she starts laying out punches and kicks, left and right. You can tell she’s a merc, there’s no holding back, no pointless posturing, just a seething hunger for victory. And before I know it, my body is sprawled on the floor, with her knee on my stomach and her blade by my neck. It was a total thrill! I—” He then looked towards Ingrid and Ashe’s amused smiles, before sitting back down, embarrassed and trying to restrain himself. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having _her_ as our instructor. I could only imagine the type of battle knowledge she can teach me.”

“That’s assuming we even _get_ her, as our professor.” Ingrid gestured her palm forward. “She said that she got first pick, and we don’t know if she won’t just side with another class.” 

“True enough.” Felix shrugged. “What are our other options?” 

“Well, one of them is the monastery's nurse, Manuela.” Ingrid flashed a massive, knowing smirk at Ashe. “You remember her, don’t you Ashe?” 

The boy started blushing and stammering. “Y-yes I remember her. She... seemed really nice.” 

“That’s the songstress from the Empire, right?” Felix inquired. “The Divine Songstress was what they call her—I think.” 

“I believe so, yes.” Ingrid nodded her head. “She helped heal up Ashe, last night and _really_ enjoyed his company.” 

Ashe's forehead became drenched in sweat. “Okay, we really... we really don’t have to go that far, she was just making for some conversation, that’s all.” 

“Oh, really? Is that why your face is getting so red?” Ingrid leaned in towards Ashe, with an ever-growing grin. 

“So, what about the other professor?” Ashe asked, trying to change the subject. “Do we know anything about them?” 

“All I know about him is that he’s a noble from the Adrestian Empire and that he really likes crests,” Felix said, disinterested. “Doesn’t seem that stand-out, honestly.” 

“Well that’s a shame,” an older voice chimed in, from the back. “I was hoping that we’d a least start off on a much better foot.” 

The trio turned behind them to find a middle-aged gentleman with a gray head of hair and moustache, sharp facial features, and wearing a monocle and a nice, dull brown suit with a matching jacket. 

“I am Professor Hanneman, and I’ll be presiding over the Blue Lion House, this year,” the man graciously bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you, I’m looking forward to our time, together.” 

* * *

As the day passed by in Hanneman’s battle tactics class, Felix was constantly disrupting class, left and right asking inane questions or loudly interrupting, to pretty much the entire class’s annoyance barring Sylvain, unhappy about his professor. Ashe, meanwhile, was trying to put his best foot forward. This was in part _due to_ Felix’s behavior forcing Ashe to pick up his slack, but also because experience under a famed crest scholar like Hanneman is an experience few people like Ashe would ever get. 

Even once they’d gotten to physical training, Felix remained sourer than ever, getting aggressive whenever he was pit against another student, especially Dimitri. Sylvain was also quite the hassle, constantly goofing off and flirting with the girls in his vicinity, though even he at least would calm down when Hanneman scolded him. Felix meanwhile would ignore his professor’s reprimands and continue to take out his anger during training. 

As Felix was busy throwing a tantrum, Ashe was busy practicing his archery with a kindly, pious woman named Mercedes, who was constantly trying to support Ashe throughout his practice, as he did the same for her. To Ashe’s dismay however, his archery left a lot to be desired, thanks to both his nerves and his back pain. As it turns out, archery and back pain don’t mix, all that well. 

When Ashe wasn’t fighting against his wounds, he got to see Dimitri in training, and what a sight it was. One slice of a lance would probably be enough to fell even the heartiest Great Knight, and his speed is nothing to scoff at. The prince was nothing less than extraordinary and was more than enough to overwhelm anybody who’d dare spar with him. Ashe thought it best to avoid even thinking of taking him on, lest he wants Dimitri to break him further. 

Once the end of the day had rolled around, Hanneman was visibly exhausted, from Felix’s and Sylvain’s antics. “All right, everyone,” Hanneman announced, his voice just as tired sounding as his face suggested. “Class is dismissed for today. You all seem to have incredible potential.” He had an weary, but no less sincere smile on his face. “And you all have been wonderful, today.” His eyes darted to Felix, both men sporting frowns. “Well, _most_ of you have been wonderful, in any case.” 

Felix rolled his eyes, before packing up his things and leaving in a huff, with Sylvain not far behind him, pestering the grouchy noble along the way. 

As most of the class followed suit, Ashe, Ingrid, and another girl, Annette stayed behind, as the professor slumped down in his chair, rubbing his temples. 

“I’m so, so sorry about my friend, Felix and Sylvain.” Ingrid bowed her head. “That was awful of them, and I’ll make sure tell them off, later.” 

“I appreciate the thought.” Hanneman waved his right hand. “But I already have my ways of dealing with him, you needn’t worry about it.” His line of sight turned to Ashe and the other girl. “If anything, I feel bad for _you_. I saw that you two were really trying to learn, and you were clearly frustrated, every time I was interrupted by him.” 

“It... was definitely not ideal.” Annette said. “But I still admire how hard you were trying! Again, I’m really, _really_ sorry about running in late, I got to preoccupied the day before, I guess.” 

Annette had bright orange hair curled up into two miniature buns, on the back of her head. Compared to the rest of the class, even Felix and Ashe, she was extremely short, barely making it up to Ashe’s nose. She was quite the studious one, constantly writing down notes whenever Hanneman was able to get a word in. She also had noticeable bags under her eyes, probably from a lack of sleep. 

“It’s quite alright, first day jitters hits everybody. And you, Ashe, you had to sit next to all of that ruckus.” The professor gestured his hand towards the boy. “I thought I had it bad with Manuela, but at least I’m not _right_ next to her, every day.” 

“Oh, it’s fine, Professor Hanneman.” Ashe waved one hand in front of him, trying to assuage the older man, “I’m sure Felix will calm down, in a little bit, once he gets used to things.” 

Ingrid let out a beleaguered sigh. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. When Felix gets like this about something, he doesn’t let it go, for quite some time. He’s been like this, for a while now, and I’d wish that he’d just stop.” 

“Well, nevertheless.” Hanneman smiled. “You all have my appreciation for trying to cheer me up. I at least have students, like you, mixed in with the rabblerousers.” 

He then waved the students off, heading towards the ginormous Central Building beyond the Officers’ Academy. Annette did the same, saying she needed to study up at the library, to prepare for tomorrow. Ingrid meanwhile headed towards the training grounds, ready to give Felix a piece of her mind. 

Ashe, on the other hand, made his way towards the dining hall, for all he had to eat for the last day and a half were the herbs Manuela provided for him, which was hardly a fulfilling diet. Once he got his food, however, Ashe noticed that there was no open table with a single familiar face at them, until a familiar voice rang nearby. 

“HEEEEEYYYY ASHE!” The young knight turned around to find a screaming Caspar at a table near the lunch line, his right eye swollen shut and a dark purplish-blue, waving his arms wildly. “OVER HERE! THERE’S AN EXTRA SPOT RIGHT NEAR US!” 

Nearly everybody in the dining hall had their gaze fixed on both Caspar and Ashe, some laughing, others groaning. Ashe ducked his head as he approached the table to sit down, his face burning hotter than the Valley of Torment. 

At the table sat Caspar and a visibly annoyed Linhardt, to his right, his hand covering his face. To his left sat a gorgeous brown-haired woman with a black hat and somewhat revealing garb. In front of the three of them sat two people: the one on the back right, a young, timid girl with a mess of purple hair and a hooded uniform not unlike the one Ashe wore. The other on the front right was a man with slightly tanned skin and short brown hair. He had some sort of gilded sash wrapped around his body, and his pants were unusually puffy and flared out, despite his rather lithe physique, and adored with fancy golden embroidery on the side. 

As Ashe plopped in the seat next to the sashed man and the anxious girl, with the latter nervously flinching once Ashe had gotten near. Caspar flashed a wide grin. “Hey buddy, good to see you again! I heard about your back, you doing all right?” 

The red on Ashe’s face deepened. “…Yes, I’m doing a bit better. How many people know about this?” 

“Not that many.” Linhardt shook his head. “Only the entire monastery. Apparently, there was a loud cracking sound and the Prince nearly burst into tears.” 

Ashe buried his head into his hands, quietly groaning in utter humiliation. 

_Why is it that I’m here for barely a day and already I have **t**_ ** _his_** _to my name?_

“Some first day, huh?” The man in gold laughed. “And here I thought spending the day with Lorenz was a nightmare.” He put his arm around Ashe. “So, you’re name’s Ashe, right? I’m Claude, from the Leicester Alliance. Charmed, I’m sure.” Claude then genially winked at the boy. 

“Wait, as in the heir to House Riegan?” Ashe’s eyes widened in awe. 

“Well, I see my reputation precedes me.” The future duke placed his arms behind his head, bearing a smile that radiated smugness. “And yes, I am, to an extent. I have to wait for my grandfather to croak, first, and he’s in depressingly good health. As such, it's probably going to be a while, before I can take up that mantle.” 

“Oh, so you all are members of the Golden Deer house, I take it?” Ashe inquired to the rest of them. 

Everyone sans the anxiety-ridden girl snickered. “Oh, no.” The woman in the black cap smiled, affectionately. “We’re actually all from Adrestia—you know, the Black Eagle House.” She extended her hand towards Ashe. “I’m Dorothea, and aren’t you just _adorable_.” Dorothea then gave him a flirtatious wink. 

Ashe turned his head away in a flustered panic, as he shook her hand. Her revealing clothing didn’t help keep the awkward boy’s nerves in check. “I-it’s a pleasure to meet you, as well, D-Dorothea.” Claude let out a sudden cackle in response to Ashe’s discomfort, overlaying his eyes with his palm. 

“Wait, hold on.” Ashe’s eyes instantly grew to enormous proportions. “Dorothy—Dorothea, you... wouldn’t have happened to know a man named Sylvain... would you?” 

Dorothea’s pleasant smile gave way to a look of sheer, untold disgust. “Ugh, yes.” She placed her fingers on her forehead, as if soothing a migraine. “I had the misfortune of meeting... _him_ when I simply meant to chat up with some nobles, which was my first mistake.” Her grimace changed back into a beaming expression. “Thankfully, that lovely girl Ingrid was able to keep him away. Now, _that’s_ a noble who knows how to treat a lady.” Dorothea’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as her smile continued to widen. 

Another revelation quickly dawned on Ashe. “Wait a second.” He turned towards the Alliance noble. “If you’re a part of the Golden Deer, then why are you sitting with the Black Eagles, Claude? Wouldn’t you want to be with your classmates?” 

Claude put his hand over his heart, with clearly feigned dismay all over his face. “What, do you think I can’t simply want to make friends? Oh, Ashe! How you wound me, so!” He quickly changed his face back into a smirk. “Nah, in all seriousness, I needed a break from the gang. They’re a bit too... excitable for my liking.” The amicable man’s eyes locked onto Caspar. “And... well I guess you can see how well _that’s_ gone, for me.” 

Caspar rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile, as Linhardt chuckled, covering his mouth. 

“And it seems Bernadetta shares my sentiment.” Claude smirked at the purple-haired girl to Ashe’s right. 

“Okay, you don’t have to call me out like that!” She bore an expression that could only be described as terrified anger. 

“Oh, come now.” The duke-to-be dismissively waved and lowered his hand. “I was only poking fun, there’s no need to get all upset.” 

Bernadetta buried her head in her hood, tying its strings as tightly as humanly possible. 

Dorothea, shot daggers at Claude. “Masterfully done there.” She stretched her arm over the table, gently grasping Bernadetta’s. “You’re going to be alright, Bern, just ignore him.” She once again flashed an unbearably sweet smile. 

As Dorothea tried to comfort her fragile friend, Caspar once again set his sights on Ashe. “So, Ashe, you ready for the mock battle this weekend? Remember, you still owe me a fight, from yesterday.” In spite of what seemed like a threat, Caspar had the widest, most cordial grin on his face, greatly disturbing Ashe. 

“You should probably recover from your last fight before jumping right into another one, little guy.” Claude pointed at the bruiser's swollen, pulsing eye. “As an aside, you _might_ not want to try and take a piece of a guy literally twice your size. Just a thought.” 

“How was I supposed to know that Raphael guy was going to rearrange my face like that?” Caspar crossed his arms and pouted. “He seemed really chilled out, and while I could tell from his size, he was pretty tough, but I wasn’t expecting to get mangled!” 

“What’s that?” Linhardt’s face was practically oozing sarcastic amazement. “The man whose chest and arms were bigger than your head might be a bit strong for you? How astute of you, Caspar! I never would’ve figured _that_ out.” His eyes rolled to almost the back of his skull. 

The petulance adorning the shorter boy’s face grew even more so. “Okay, smart guy, I get it, you don’t have to rub it in.” 

Linhardt formed a smirk to rival Claude’s, before tousling his friend’s hair, much to the latter’s visible annoyance. 

“Anyways.” Ashe looked on with a mixture of amusement and worry. “That’s all up to Professor Hanneman, and given how I did in class today, it’s not like I gave him much of a reason to do so.” 

“Eh, it’s just your first day!” Caspar shook his head, assuredly. “Besides, your back got messed up, I think your Professor understands! Professor Byleth was for me, when I was messing up in training.” 

“Oh, so she decided to lead the Black Eagles?” Ashe placed his hand to his chin. 

“Yep! You should’ve seen Dorothea and Edelgard, they were _really_ happy to get her.” Caspar turned to Dorothea, radiating playful mockery. 

“I can only imagine how Felix will feel once he sees your class with her.” The young knight’s expression turned from inquiry to distressed. 

“The guy with the tied-up blue hair, right?” Caspar sported a look of knowing discomfort. “Yeah... I was at the training ground when that girl—Ingrid, I think—was tearing him a new one, I heard he was _not_ at all happy about getting your guys’ new Professor.” 

“You can say that again.” Ashe placed his hand on his forehead. “I really hope he cools down, he seems like a good combatant, but...” His voice trailed off. The last thing Ashe wants is to gossip about another student. Seiros knows that enough rumors have been spread in Ashe’s time with Lonato and Christophe for him to know what being on the other side is like. 

“So, what’s training under her like?” Claude’s disposition was of notable curiosity. “We sort of lucked out on an okay enough Professor, but I imagine working under a merc presents its own benefits.” 

“Oh, it’s great!” Caspar’s voice was getting louder, again. “She really knew how to throw down, she was picking out everything from where we throw a punch, to how to position ourselves, to how to mix things up. Sorry if you guys get whooped next week, because of her.” He crossed his arms in a smug fashion. 

“Oh, really?” Claude smirked, placing his cheek on his lightly closed fist. “Well, you guys have to contend with us, first, and let me tell you, I know my way around a battle or two.” 

Caspar pounded his fist into his other palm, cracking his knuckles. “Oh, believe me, we’ll take you guys out before you can blink, just watch us.” 

Claude broke out in an entertained laugh and simpered at Ashe. “Oh, and I guess we also have to look out for the slap heard around the world, as well.” 

“Well, if my back’s any indication, you’re in for a rough time.” Ashe sheepishly smiled as he pointed his thumb to his spine. “And I wouldn't underestimate the Blue Lions, we have quite the formidable bunch, ourselves, even if I’m not so formidable, myself.” 

“Looking forward to it.” Claude leisurely arose from his seat. “Now, if you excuse me, I have some business to attend to. One day in and I’ve already got official papers from both the Alliance and class to worry about, lucky me. Until next time.” He saluted the group with two fingers to his head, before exiting the dining hall. 

“He’s an interesting one.” Dorothea placed her hands beneath her chin. “And I unfortunately must take my leave, too. I have a date with another noble who goes here, wish me luck. It was nice meeting you, Ashe.” She blew a kiss in the silver-haired young man’s direction, flustering him immensely. 

Bernadetta followed suit, lowering her head. “Th-thank you guys for inviting me over.” There was a slight nervous smile on her face, nearly hidden by her hood. 

After waving the two off, the three boys spent the rest of their dinner simply chatting. Linhardt was usually cracking wise of yawning, while Caspar either stuffed his face with food or exclaimed in excitement for the upcoming mock battle. The entire time, the pain in Ashe’s back was almost nonexistent, with him finally in comfort, just simply talking to a few students. 

* * *

As the next week passed by for the Blue Lions, it was more of the same, for the most part. Felix continued to grumble and get agitated throughout classes, especially when Sylvain and Dimitri entered the equation, to Hanneman’s ever-growing frustration. 

When he wasn’t being obnoxious in class and simply training his sword skills, however, it was like he’d become a completely different person, slashing with his blade at an incredible speed with great precision and ferocity, in attempt to prove himself, before the mock battle commenced. His grace with a blade was unparalleled, even when compared to Ingrid and Dimitri, who were great with their blades, in their own right, even if the latter had a hard time controlling his supreme strength. 

Luckily for Ashe, after his back fully healed, he could finally show his capability with a bow. Whatever Manuela gave him had done wonders for his body, and he felt better than ever. What was once a pitiful, poor man’s attempt at archery turned into far more consistent and longer ranged shots than the previous, disastrous attempts he made before. 

“I must say, Ashe.” Hanneman said, glowing with pride and infectious glee. “You’ve really turned yourself around, these last few days. I’m glad to see such improvement.” 

Ashe blushed and rubbed the back of his head, as bashful as ever. “Oh, it was nothing really. I just managed to get healed up. It’s really Professor Manuela you have to thank, for this.” 

Hanneman’s head jerked in disagreement. “That doesn’t negate how well you’ve done, Ashe. With how well you’re handling yourself now, the mock battle should be no problem at all.” 

Mercedes, who was likewise practicing her archery, put on hand on Ashe’s shoulder, sporting an immense expression of delight. “He’s right, Ashe. You’re doing really well, so far.” 

The former commoner was immensely embarrassed at the praise he was getting. “Thanks, the both of you, really.” 

Just those two compliments brightened up Ashe’s day more than words can express, with said praise emboldening him in practice, allowing his signature curved shots to land harder and more accurately than before. 

Ashe’s secondary mean of offense, axe-wielding, was a different affair entirely. While not terrible, as his speed and accuracy with the weapon surpassed his fellow axe-wielders, Sylvain and Dedue, they were far more powerful in their swings. And for something as close-ranged and heavy as an axe, speed and nimbleness can only go so far, when your strength isn’t all that high. Which was something that couldn’t be said for Felix’s secondary way of attacking, his fists, which was a field no other classmate had a notable claim in. 

Ashe’s nerves were building over the next few days, worrying if he’d be sent out for the mock battle at the end of the week. There were to be five combatants per house, and given that the house leader and professor were a formality, that left three open spots out of seven. And considering the need for a healer, that means two slots, and given how Felix, Sylvain, and Dedue were all the stronger physical units, and Annette was the resident offensive mage, the chances of Ashe getting in were slim. 

Even then, would he even amount to much, compared to the other houses? Every other house has their fair share of powerful nobles who’ve been trained in combat for years. Would Ashe even have a chance? The closer the day of the mock battle got, the stronger the anxiety that he felt. 

* * *

On the day before the main event, near the tail end of the class, Hanneman approached the chalkboard nearby. "Alright class, tomorrow’s this big mock battle of the three houses, it’s time we discussed who’s fighting, and who’s observing. Obviously, as the professor, I am to attend, as is Dimitri, the house leader.” He wrote down both names on the board, before pointing to Mercedes. “As for the other three, Mercedes, you will be our group’s healer, especially given that while we have a class of physically strong units, even they can get worn down, after a while.” 

The kindly women bowed her head. “Why, thank you, Professor Hanneman, I’m honored. 

The old teacher smiled before writing down Mercedes’s name and turned back to the rest of the class. “As for our last close-ranged unit, we have Sylvain, Felix and Dedue. And since not only is he His Highness’s retainer, but was also the only one of you three who showed basic decency and respect, in my class, Dedue, you’ll take part, as well.” 

In the middle of the classroom, a dark-skinned mountain of a man with a tied back white hairdo stood and bowed, before the older, certainly frailer professor. “It would be my honor, Professor. I’ll ensure a victory for His Highness.” 

While Sylvain just sat there, nonchalantly, Felix was _incensed_ by this, standing straight up, out of his chair. " _What_!? I’m the best physical unit we have, here. And the only once decent in hand-to-hand combat, and you’re going to hand my position over to this damned cur? Do you _want_ us to win, or not?” 

Hanneman’s visage was that of a vicious scowl. “And _what_ , exactly have you done to _earn_ being able to join in the battle? For the past week, all I’ve seen and heard you do is flagrantly disrupt my class on a regular basis and show me nothing but disrespect. I don’t care how strong you think you are, but if you wanted to be a part of this, maybe you should've considered your actions, before getting upset about not getting your way.” 

The blue-haired noble clenched his fists in fury and gritted his teeth as a vein bulged from his forehead. 

“Speaking of respect.” Hanneman’s face transformed from vexation to earnestness. “For our final unit, we’ll need one more ranged option, and as we have only one unit with such incredible range—.” His gaze turned directly to Felix's right, his smile reaching its apex. “The fifth and final representative for the Blue Lion House will be Ashe Ubert.” 

The young knight’s jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes nearly launching out of his head, in shock. “I—what?” 

The aged scholar raised his finger. “Compared to the rest of the class, your range reaches the absolute furthest out of all of us, including yours truly, and given we have our fair share of magical and bow-wielding threats, we’ll need all the distance we can get, in terms of range. And you have an axe as a way to deal with units that aren’t able to take much close-range punishment.” He then sent his grin towards Felix’s direction, now as smug as it was joyful. “And lastly, you were right next to the ruckus that your classmate caused, and were still more studious than most of the other students, and I feel that is something that deserves its own reward.” 

The instant those final words were uttered, Ashe broke into a cold sweat. Felix was already quite angry, and knowing his battle capabilities, as well as that he'd been responsible for Ashe getting in, things seemed to be dire, for the young knight’s welfare. 

However, Felix didn’t utter a word. He did, however give an icy, terrifying glare in Ashe’s and Hanneman’s direction, his breath heavy, yet controlled. In all honesty, Ashe would’ve preferred him screaming. 

“‘Grats, Ashe!” Sylvain shouted, winking and mugging. “Make sure to score a victory for poor Felix, eh?” 

Felix’s glare then swerved in Sylvain’s direction, his rage building. “Burn. In. Hell. Sylvain.” 

In response to Felix’s words, the philanderer’s grin doubled in size, as Sylvain was visibly getting great pleasure out of getting a rise out of his friend. 

“Alright, tomorrow, we have a lot of work ahead of us.” Hanneman gestured towards the house. “Get as much rest as you can, tomorrow’s mission won’t be an easy one.” 

As the rest of class were leaving the building, Felix grabbed Ashe’s shoulder, as he was hurriedly getting his things. “You.” 

Ashe let out a small whimper. “Yes, Felix?” 

Once he faced him, Ashe saw his classmate still bearing his fierce scowl. “You heard what I said before, watch for the boar.” 

“Excuse me?” Ashe was now enveloped in shock and confusion. 

“You’re going to fight with him, aren’t you?” Felix bore his clenched teeth. “You’re gonna see him in action, up close and personal, if he ends up losing control, watch out for him. Got it? We can't have him getting himself or someone else hurt.” 

The boy frantically nodded his head. “Understood, I’ll watch out for him.” 

“Good.” Felix began to walk down towards the entrance. “And one more thing.” The swordsman stopped in his tracks, his back still facing the knightly archer. “If you’re going out there on the behalf of all of us, win. Show me and the rest of this Monastery that you’ve earned being here.” He continued his exit, not uttering another word, as he loudly stomped against the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Felix, much like Dimitri, is going to be quite a delicate balance, to try and write for, because despite fitting the tsundere archetype to a T, he's still one of the most three-dimensional members of the cast. And considering how important he'll be, going forward, keeping him from being too much of a dick without derailing who he is, as a person, is going to be a tricky, but welcome task.
> 
> \- One of the great things about writing a fic for Three Houses is that I can put characters like Ashe in situations where they'd be the least comfortable. If Marianne's support is any indication, he gets flustered around women he's attracted to, and you better believe I'll be abusing that, later on.
> 
> \- I absolutely love writing for Claude, he's the easiest for me to come up with dialogue for, and he's just plain fun to have him talk to other cast members. If I had enough passion for all of Golden Deer to write about them (and also felt remotely comfortable trying to write about a place heavily based on real-life cultures I know little about), this would've been a Claude-centric story, for sure. Naturally because of that, Claude's going to be a far more prominent figure than he'd normally be in Crimson Flower, and I can't wait to show off all the scenarios I have in store, for him.
> 
> \- Is there any real reason I chose [Claude to be wearing his beta clothes besides liking how it looks](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Claude/Gallery?file=Claude_Concept_art.png)? No, not really. It's just a really cool design and it's criminal he and [Edelgard](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Edelgard/Gallery?file=Edelgard_Concept_art.png) lost their awesome concept outfits. It's not really any less subtle about his heritage than his timeskip look and it hurts nothing, so why not?


	3. The Golden Gambit

As the unbearably bright sunlight irritated Felix’s eyes, he wondered his reasons for showing up to the training grounds, where the Blue Lions were to meet, before the mock battle. 

**_Why did I even bother, today?_ **

For the goddess knows how long, Felix had been waiting for everyone to show up, fiddling around with his sword, in bored anticipation. 

Soon enough, however, two students arrived, Ashe and Annette. Figures that the two over-achievers would swing by first. “About time someone decided to showed up.” 

“Felix, as warm as usual, I see.” The usually cheerful girl looked like death, the bags under her eyes even larger than usual. 

“You all right, there?” Felix’s voice carried an unusual concern. “I can’t tell if you’re going to collapse, or not.” 

For all of his cynicism towards his fellow Blue Lions, Felix couldn’t find it within himself to feel that same way towards Annette. Why? Even he can’t quite understand it, usually boundless optimism aggravates him on a deeply personal level, but she somehow didn’t tick that box. 

“I’m good, don’t worry, Felix.” In spite of her clear exhaustion, she still bore that sickeningly infectious smile. “Just spent too much time studying and not enough time sleeping, I guess.” 

“Well, no one else is here, so get some rest, while you can.” He pointed to a nearby column, for her to rest her head, to which she gladly marched over. Felix then met Ashe’s nervous gaze. “I see you’re still panicking, after last night, huh?” 

“You could say that, yes. I can’t exactly say I’ve had a good night’s sleep, either.” Ashe meekly replied, line of sight glued towards the ground. 

“Well, knock it off, we’re less likely to win if you’re more focuses on how worried, you are.” Felix barked, his expression decidedly stern. 

“I’m well aware of that, I just can’t help it.” The archer awkwardly rubbed his other arm. “I know it might seem a bit childish to worry about a battle that’s comparatively low stakes, but I made a promise to make a name for myself, here, and the last thing I want is to disappoint.” 

Felix transformed from stoic to melancholic, in an instant. The timid kid he was talking to reminded him of the child he once was. So innocent and people-pleasing, not wanting to upset anyone. It was the behavior of someone who hadn’t had his reality thoroughly checked yet. In a way, it was admirable, but that innocence isn’t going to do him well, in the real world. 

Felix shook his head. “Ashe, let me give you some advice, don’t focus on what people _want_ you to do, focus on what you _can_ do.” 

“Didn’t you just tell me that you wanted me to win though?” Ashe’s face now bore a visible confusion. 

The Faerghus noble placed his palm on his face and sighed, utterly exasperated. “You know what I mean, Ashe. If you want to win, stop getting in your own head about others, trust me, I wouldn’t be as strong as I am if I had so many nerves to tangle with.” His face softened. “You were allowed in for a reason, right? I’m sure you’ve got something up your sleeve, you just need to figure it out. Like I told you yesterday, show us that you've earned being here, all right?” 

“I—thank you, Felix.” Ashe beamed, his body considerably loosened up. “You’re right, if I was allowed in, I must have something going for me.” He reached out his hand, which Felix quickly shook. 

“Good, now raise some hell out there. If I'm not allowed to bring us to victory, then you’ve got to pick up the slack.” Felix lightly grinned, tapping Ashe’s shoulder with his knuckles. 

* * *

Once the rest of the class finally met up with the others, Hanneman gathered the four participating students to discuss their game plan. “All right, for this battle, it’s best for us to not try and charge towards the other classes. We’ll be up in the northeast, meaning that both paths to the other houses will be covered in thick forests, which for us, will be to our disadvantage, what with two physical-only units and only one mage.” 

The crest scholar pointed to Ashe. “That’s why we’ll need you, Ashe, to bait them out, for us. You can use your range to grab the others’ attention and lead them over to us, out in the open, where we can fight them uninhibited. And if you can, lead one group to the other, to wear them both out, so we can have an easier time finishing them off.” 

“Understood!” Ashe saluted in earnest, one fist behind the middle of his back, the other directly in front of his midsection. “I take it that’s why you selected me in the first place?” 

“Indeed. Since you are already quite fast and have your long-ranged curved shots, we can use those skills along with that iron bow of yours to wittle the opposition down before we strike.” Hanneman affectionately smiled. “As for the rest of you, Mercedes, you’ll remain in the back, while Your Highness, you’ll be waiting a ways behind Ashe, to ambush the opposition once he lures them over. Dedue, you’ll be in between His Highness and Mercedes, so that way you can protect our healer, whilst also keeping guard of your liege.” 

The giant bowed towards the far smaller old man, a sight that’ll never cease being a wonder, for Ashe. “You have my thanks, Professor.” 

Hanneman pointed to Mercedes. “Mercedes, if you can, keep as far as humanly possible from the other houses. We can’t nurse our wounds easily without a healer, nearby. You'll still have your training bow to keep yourself out of harms reach, but please do be careful.” 

The kindly healer placed a hand on her chest. “Understood, I’ll make sure to keep them at bay.” 

Without missing a beat, the aging teacher turned his head towards Dimitri. “Your Highness, I trust that you’ll be able to handle taking on the onslaught?” 

Dimitri placed his fist onto his chest. “I swear that I’ll utterly massacre the competition, mark my words. They’ll be on death’s door, when I’m finished.” 

Ashe’s eyes popped wide open, upon hearing Dimitri’s boast. 

_Massacre? On death’s door? He_ _can’t_ _mean that_ _he’d_ _try to seriously harm anyone, right?_

It was then that a familiar voice rang in Ashe’s mind. 

_“He’s a_ _monster, when_ _his excitement is roused. He delights in his culling of others.”_

The hooded boy looked onto the blue-clad noble with a palpable anxiety, not sure of what would happen, once the fighting began. 

It seems that Ashe wasn’t the only one disturbed by Dimitri’s words, as Hanneman’s face was riddled with discomfort. “Um, you mean that you’ll take them down, and they’ll be out of it once you’re done, right, Your Highness?” 

“If you want to put it that way, then yes.” The crown prince looked slightly puzzled towards the elderly professor’s clear discomposure. 

With that, however, Ashe let out a deep sigh of relief. 

_Thank the goddess, he was only exaggerating._

Hanneman nervously chuckled. “All right, now that we’re all on the same page about our roles, I believe it’s high time that we head on out. Now, let’s show these other houses what the Blue Lion House is made of!” 

* * *

At the outskirts of Garreg Mach, a cool breeze blew throughout the battlefield. Down by the trees stood Ashe, bow in hand and shaking with anticipation. Above him, towards the mountains, were the students from each house that were unable to participate and a tall, burly man with a fair share of rugged scars, a rugged beard, and a combination of orange, worn plainclothes and armor. Evidently this man was the father of Byleth, a mercenary by the name of Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker. 

Felix sat at the edge of the cliff, near the middle-aged merc, his view fixated on the battle field below, lying in wait, for the festivities to begin. The young warrior was eyeing all three houses like a hawk, while his other classmates were a small ways away from him. 

As they waited for the battle to start, Jeralt struck up conversation with Felix. “So, what’s up with you, kiddo? Wouldn’t you rather sit by your friends than this crusty old bastard?” 

Felix chuckled. “Nah, I want to be as close to the action as possible. Besides, I’d find it more interesting to be in the company of the so-called Breaking Blade, and it’s not like trying to get away has stopped my colleagues from bugging me, before” 

Jeralt let out a large belly laugh. “Damn, you don’t mince words, there. And I wouldn’t put _that_ much stock in me, all right? My legend’s a bit oversold, if you catch my drift.” 

“Nonsense.” Felix fervently dismissed the older fighter. “If your daughter learned how to fight from you, I can’t imagine that you’re too far behind.” 

Jeralt began to wear a large, surprised smile. “Oh, so you’re the kid who got your ass handed to you by Byleth, huh? Yeah, that’s my little girl, all right. She told me she’s never seen a noble so eager to get a few licks in.” 

“Heh, well I’m not one of those other pretentious nobles, you know.” Felix looked up towards the mercenary, with a small smirk. “In Faerghus, we learned to fight before we could read, and I just was way better at the fighting part, than most.” 

“You know just saying that you aren’t pretentious like them before singing your own praises makes you sound like one of those pretentious nobles, right?” Eisner tousled the noble’s well-kempt hair, to the latter’s annoyance. “And if you’re so great, why aren’t you the one about to knock some heads, down there?” 

Felix’s now angry gaze quickly darted back down to the field, towards the Blue Lions. “I got a little annoyed that I wasn’t under a seasoned merc’s care, and my professor took umbrage with that.” 

Jeralt crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you were acting more than, ‘a little annoyed?’ I heard something about some brat in the Blue Lion House getting short with his professor, and constantly being a nuisance during classes, because he was upset his little battle crush wasn’t in charge. That brat wouldn’t be _you_ , would it?” 

Felix blushed and turned his head away from the Blade Breaker. " _Crush_ is taking it too far, and besides, I just wanted someone with proper battle experience, not some scholar who doesn’t understand that sometimes you need more than just planning to win a fight, you need a respectable warrior.” 

The merc began to simultaneously laugh and sigh. “Yeah, well, one thing you’re going to have to learn real quick is that it takes more than one man to win against an army, kid.” 

Behind the two men, a loud, annoying voice echoed behind them. “Hey, Felix, still pouting?” 

Felix turned around to find the obnoxious Sylvain, sporting a wide, cheesy grin that would make anyone want to punch him for. “What do you want, Sylvain?” 

“I’m just here to check up on my cute little baby brother.” Sylvain snarked back. 

It took everything in Felix not to retch. “Don’t you ever _dare_ call me that again, you insatiable pig.” 

“Yay, more verbal abuse, my favorite.” Sylvain rolled his eyes, his grin still remaining as irritating as ever. “Anyway, no one else in our class is really in the mood to talk to me, and every time I try to even approach a woman, I’ve got Ingrid breathing down my neck.” 

“Can’t imagine why...” Felix grumbled, under his breath. 

“Hey, are you the insanely thirsty guy that I’ve been hearing all about?” Jeralt pointed to the flirt. 

Sylvain sported a face of joking pain. “Ah, that hurts, you know. I’ve no idea where you got an impression as crass as that, from.” 

Jeralt squinted his eyelids and his tone grew far darker. “From my daughter, Byleth, for one. You might’ve heard about me, I’m Jeralt Reas Eisner.” 

And just like that, Sylvain broke into a cold sweat, his face contorted into extreme shock and terror. “O-oh, you’re... that professor’s father.... the Breaking...Blade.” The ‘insanely thristy guy’ let out an audible gulp. “The Fodlan-renowned mercenary who...” His voice trailed off, his expression growing more horrified, by the second, as he backed further from the Jeralt. 

“Yup, that’s right.” Jeralt's expression grew even sterner. “I heard you tried to hit on my little girl, and that you’ve got quite the rap sheet, as it is. Catherine also told me about your attempt at schmoozing her. Just what are you trying to pull?” 

Felix sported a massive, smug-as-all-get-out smirk, at his old friend’s expense. Humor is not something he'd concern himself with, but watching Sylvain squirm in the face of a powerful man is all too priceless. 

“Oh, hey, look, I think all the classes are ready to start, we should probably get this whole battle started, right?” Sylvain’s mug was plastered with such an insincere, terrified smile, as his voice reached heights that Felix didn’t think possible. 

“Sure.” The Blade Breaker smirked. “We can talk about your hitting on my kid, later.” 

As the womanizer appeared to be internally counting how much longer he had to live, Felix was biting his lip, holding back a guffaw, at his friend's expense.

“All right, you brats.” Jeralt shouted as loudly as possible, nearly deafening the Faerghus duo. “It’s about time we get this little scrap started, yeah?” 

Below the cliffside, all three houses began to take on battle stances, ready for the ensuing brawl, Ashe, in particular was hopping side to side, wanting to bolt to his position as soon as possible. 

Jeralt raised his right hand to the sky. “All right, let the mock battle...” He thrust his upward arm forward. “BEGIN!”

* * *

Ashe ran as fast as he possibly could for the nearby batch of trees, rushing to find a good vantage point. Once there, he jumped and climbed up towards the centermost trunk, using it as cover, waiting to strike. 

_If I can use this forest before the others,_ _I’ll_ _be able to lure them without them seeing me. I may not be_ _very strong_ _, but if there's one thing that thievery has taught me, it's how to hide and hide well._

And just like that, a flock of four enemies came into his view. Towards the upper right, was a man who looked like the very embodiment of death, itself. His skin was pasty, almost as pale as Ashe’s, and his dark black hair covered his left eye. And as for his physique, it was relatively thin, but he was also quite tall, enhancing his fear factor. His face was plastered with a sinister, terrifying smirk. 

Behind him was a pretty young woman of a decidedly short stature. Her hair, on the other hand was quite long and a bright shade of pure white, something peculiar, even for the people of Fodlan, which had two purple ties, one for each side. She wore a red and white uniform with gold embroidery and a black tie and cape to go with, along with a dark navy skirt. Her expression was that of composure and poise, she was quite refined, even for a high-class noble. Despite having never having had a conversation with her, Ashe was able to decipher that this was Adrestia’s future emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg, given the description Ashe was given, beforehand. 

Right beside her was none other than Byleth Eisner, and unlike before, she wore a silver and black variant of the traditional Garreg Mach uniform and skirt, complete with a black and grey cape and a pastel pink headband. She looked remarkedly out of place in that outfit, but at the same time, it didn’t seem to bother or inhibit her, in any way. Much like last time, however, there was very little trace of emotion in her demeanor, other than complete, unshaken focus. 

However, directly in front of all of them and blocking them from Ashe’s position... was Dorothea, the exact last person he wanted to have to try and aim at. 

_Why her? Why, of all people did SHE have to be in the way of everyone else? How am I supposed to focus on hitting her when_ _it’s_ _all too easy to look... where I really_ _shouldn’t_ _be?_

And unfortunately for Ashe, there was very little opportunity for him to aim for any other students, with his voluptuous opponent being right by all three of them, flustering him and keeping him off focus. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Felix muttered to himself as he squinted his slanted eyes. “He has an opportunity to aim, why isn’t he going for it?” 

“Maybe he’s too nervous.” Sylvain leisurely pointed downward. 

Felix rubbed his temple with his fingers. “I thought he was over this, and what in the goddess’s name are you pointing at, Sylvain?” 

“See her?” His eyes locked down on Dorothea. “Notice how she’s right in front of the rest of the Black Eagles? And you know how Ashe is pretty easy to ruffle up, right?” 

Felix slapped his forehead, in frustration, before rubbing his palm down his face. “Oh, good goddess, you've got to be kidding me. He’s in the middle of a fight, and he’s too busy getting all hot and bothered?” 

“Might want to look closer at the other kids, champ.” Jeralt’s expression remained just as still as his daughter’s. “Look at that taller one, nearby.” He locked on and swiftly motioned towards Hubert. “He’s got some kind of wicked smile on his face, and you notice how there’s only four members in that group?” 

“You mean they’re...” As the revelation dawned on Felix, his eyes jutted wide open. 

Sylvain let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I see where _this_ is going. Poor Ashe is in for a rough time.” 

As the Black Eagles started to take a turn towards the northeast, Ashe finally took proper aim, only to hear the frightening one say this: “Hey, have any of you seen that loud imbecile?” His ghoulish grin stretched across his whole face. 

Ashe’s eyes darted around, looking for another threat, when he heard a deafening shout right behind him. The archer whipped his head around to find Caspar, soaring through the treetops, his axe raised in the air, coming down at a high velocity. Ashe let out a high-pitched shriek, slipping and crashing into the dirt below. When he looked up, Caspar started to drop down from the branch, with eyes wild and his smile utterly manic, ready to slam onto Ashe. 

Ashe rolled out of the way, before getting up and firing an arrow at the boisterous child. Caspar dropped down to the floor, crawling out of the underbrush, before making a full-blown sprint, back to his team. When Ashe managed to make it out of the woods, he found all five Black Eagles, their sights locked onto him, blocking him off from the other Blue Lions. 

“Well, it seems your little scheme worked, Professor.” The slender man darkly chortled. 

Byleth nodded before turning her head towards Dorothea. “Thanks for the heads up about that kid, Dorothea. You really knew how to mess with him.” 

“All in a day’s work!” The maiden winked and grinned at Ashe, flirtatiously waving her fingers at him. 

“Wait, you—” The flustered child’s cheeks turned redder than the Empire’s coat of arms. 

“Goddess, that's so cruel, I love it!” Sylvain loudly laughed, from above. 

“Stop laughing, you fool.” Felix barked, with a worried demeanor. “This means that in one move, our entire plan in screwed, you do realize that, right?” 

“Hey, come on.” Sylvain slapped his anxious friend’s back. “This kid might pull something out of his hat, just wait.” 

“IT’S FIVE TO ONE, SYLVAIN!” Felix grabbed the ginger man’s collar. “How do you expect him to get out of this, huh?” His arm stretched out towards their colleague, far below. 

“Easy there, buddy.” Sylvain raised both of his hands to his face, as if trying to block a punch to the face. “Miracles can happen. And besides, Ashe is a commoner, he’s probably been through his fair share of obstacles, as is.” 

“Uh, kids?” Jeralt pointed down, just past the sextet of fighters, at a lanky man with a rose on his garb, a shining lance, and tackily-styled purple hair. “I think that miracle of yours might be coming sooner than expected.” 

The gaudy lancer leaped into the air, screaming at the top of his lungs, “By the honor of the Golden Deer House and my own family, I will make all of you submit to me, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester!” 

In a flash, Byleth swerved around, grappling Lorenz out of the air, taking his momentum, and using it to crush his body against the earth, causing the extravagant lancer to yelp in pain. 

“Heh, that’s Byleth, for you.” Jeralt chuckled as he bore a small smile aimed at his daughter. 

Before the units could collect their thoughts, an arrow dropped from the sky, nicking Edelgard’s shoulder. The six of them turned to find a timid mess of a boy with an olive-green bowl of hair and glasses, shaking as he held his bow. “Lorenz, what on earth do you think you’re doing!?” 

While the Black Eagles were momentarily distracted, Ashe fled as fast as his legs would allow, to the northwest. 

“What, I—huh?” Felix dropped his jaw in utter disbelief at the situation that unfolded. 

“‘Our entire plan is screwed, Sylvain. It’s five to one, Sylvain. How do you expect him to get out of this, Sylvain?’” The philanderer wrapped his arm around his best friend, with an aura of pure, unadulterated self-satisfaction. 

“Shut up.” Felix elbowed Sylvain before crossing his arms, in a huff. “We haven’t won, yet. That was just pure luck.” 

“Hey, give the guy credit for taking an open opportunity at least.” Sylvain’s smile remained unwavering. 

Felix refused to meet Sylvain’s gaze, to give him that satisfaction would be a fate worse than death. “He managed to buy himself time, I’ll give him that. But he needs to get his damn head in the game, already.” 

Ashe fired a curved shot towards the Black Eagles, once he’d made it back to his side, catching his foes’ attention. 

Byleth moved her arm in Ashe’s direction, her tone unchanging. “He's is making a getaway. Hubert, Caspar, you take him, the rest of us can handle these two.” 

The eerie man and Caspar blitzed towards Ashe, but luckily for the wannabe knight, his speed outdid both of them by a decent margin, allowing him to get in enough range to fire off another set of curved shots. As the bolts approached the duo, Hubert raised his right palm upwards, near his left shoulder as it became enveloped in a black, purple, and indigo storm of violent energy. Once the arrows were close enough, Hubert launched his arm forward and with it, a ball of a sinister aura annihilated the arrows in one shot, as it barreled towards Ashe. 

Ashe frantically leapt away from the initial blast, but the sphere struck the ground behind him, and the resulting explosion knocked him off his feet and away from his bow, as soon as he’d landed. 

“Caspar, now!” The mage growled, rearing his head towards his partner. 

“Get ready Ashe, ‘cuz you’re about to see what happens when you face the raw might of Caspar!” The cyan brute charged towards the fallen knight, rearing up his axe for a mighty blow, with an enormous grin plastered on his face. 

Before Ashe could think, he’d already whipped out his sword, leaping to his feet. He swung as hard and fast as he can, knocking Caspar’s weapon clean out of his hand, before he reached the apex of his swing. 

Ashe then followed up with another swing, but Caspar slid underneath him, knocking him over. The Blue Lion caught himself by pushing his palm off the ground, flipping over where he’d nearly collapsed. 

Ashe began to sprint, while he still had momentum on his side, but as Caspar was blocking the northeast, he changed course to the northwest, instead, swiping his opponent’s axe off the floor. 

Felix clenched his knuckles with a ferocity that caused his knuckles to whiten. “That Caspar blocked off his one route to the boar, and now Ashe is running like a chicken with his head cut off, and he doesn’t even have the one reason he was chosen for this stupid fight!” 

“Chill out, Felix.” Sylvain softly gripped his friend’s tensed up shoulder, before getting it brushed off by Felix’s hand. “He’s still sort of heading north, and I know he’ll have some good company really soon.” 

Felix released a deep breath in attempt to try and ease his ever-growing tension. “For his sake, I hope you’re right.” 

As the two conversed, an arrow flew towards Ashe’s direction from the west, stunning him and knocking him off balance, which made him twisted his ankle, on landing. 

He let out a groan of pain, clutching his leg as the two Black Eagle men slowly made their way to the injured boy. 

“I must admit, you’ve been far more effective as a nuisance than I’d thought.” Hubert grimly chuckled. “All right, Caspar, hurry and take him out, while we have the chance.” 

Caspar walked forward, cracking his knuckles, sporting a somber demeanor. “Sorry we couldn’t exactly duke it out in a fair fight, like we wanted, but I’ve got a match to win, so maybe next time, Ashe.” 

Suddenly, a behemoth crashed into the ground between the two boys, producing a large cloud of dust. And from the swirling storm of dirt appeared Dedue, bearing a determined scowl. “I won’t let you harm him.” 

“Well, you sure know how to come at the exact wrong time.” Hubert spat, as he frowned in vexation. 

In a flash, Caspar rushed towards the giant, throwing himself through the air, slamming his fist in Dedue’s jaw. Dedue, however, seemed to take no damage, pushing the boy’s hand back with a simple turn of the head, before grabbing the far smaller fighter by the arm and lifting him into the sky, with one arm. “In the name of His Highness...” 

Caspar began to shout as loud as his lungs would let him, before having his entire body thrashed against the ground below, the recoil rebounding him into the air 

Dedue revved up his axe, swinging both his arms forward with incredible might. “I will break you!” In one blow from the backside of the axe, Caspar was launched across the battlefield, screaming all the while, toward Hubert. 

Hubert sidestepped out of the way, as Caspar kept flying towards the south, until he could no longer be seen nor have his yells heard by Ashe. “My, my, aren’t you a strong one? It seems we should’ve paid more attention to _you_ , rather than that child.” Hubert gripped his sword, his hand shaking. 

“I have a sworn duty that I will protect with my life.” Dedue swung his axe behind him, charging towards Hubert at full speed. “You won’t hurt one more hair on his head! Brace yourself!” 

Faster than the eye could see, the emaciated Black Eagle slashed at the dark-skinned juggernaut’s side with his blade, producing a deep gash in his abdomen. As Dedue stumbled from the surprise wound, Hubert swept his legs out from under him, his body slamming hard on the grassy plains. 

“Such a shame, I thought you would’ve put up much more of a fight.” Hubert sneered, once again charging a dusky surge of energy in his arm, his hand extended right above his foe’s body. “Like you, I have a master to protect at all cost. I’ll see to it that you never get the chance to inconvenience her. Now, enjoy your slumber.” The shadowy blob in the retainer’s hand detonated with a powerful roar, both their bodies encompassed by a perilous cloud of black fog and violet lightning.

When the dust cleared, Hubert turned around to Ashe, readjusting his glove. “Now, you’ve meddled enough with our plans. I’m sorry I have to do this, but it’s in service of someone more deserving of victory.” 

It was then that Dedue instantly rose from the earth, and pulled back his fist, ready to crush the ghastly terror. Hubert swung around, with a half-completed dark shroud around his hand, colliding with Dedue’s strike, sending the former flying. 

In spite of being momentarily stunned, Dedue sprinted towards Hubert and clasped his skull, lifting the Black Eagle off the ground. “Did you really think that you’d so easily finish me off?” His face was uncharacteristically fierce, terrifying both Ashe and the seemingly unwavering Hubert, as he flailed his legs and tried pry himself the prince’s liege’s grip with both his hands, to no avail. 

However, behind them a loud war cry bellowed. Above the two combatants was Caspar, his face extremely bloody and one of the teeth near his right cheek missing. The scrapper whipped his hand back, clenching it just as Dedue turned his head upward. Caspar let out a rambunctious scream and rammed his knuckles into Dedue’s face , knocking the stoic goliath back down into the earth, out cold. 

Felix’s jaw dropped to the bottom of the cliffside. “Did that loudmouth just...” 

“Take out maybe our most durable teammate? Yeah, I think so.” Sylvain was visibly just as taken aback as Felix, leaning his whole body forward, as if to make fully sure that what he’s seeing is correct. 

“Damn, I gotta give that little twerp credit!” The midlife mercenary laughed as he placed his hand on the side of his head. “I thought he was just some snot-nosed kid, way in over his head, but he’s actually got some backbone, behind him.” 

Caspar lifted Hubert up, getting blood all over the latter’s uniform, his entire body shaking. “Up and at ‘em, big guy.” Once the two were on their feet and Caspar went to reach for Dedue’s axe, Caspar began to wobble even more uncontrollably, evidently still shaken from that vicious onslaught. “Man, I thought I was a goner there, for a sec!” 

“Well, you have my thanks, Caspar.” Hubert bowed to his height-challenged partner, before wiping the blood off of himself. “If you weren’t there, right when I needed you, I would most surely be out of commission and for that, you have my gratitude.” 

Behind them, Ashe picked up the axe he sieged from Caspar a few moments prior, reeling his wrist back behind him. 

“Hey, don’t mention it!” Caspar slapped Hubert’s back, sending him stumbling forward. Caspar turned towards his other opponent. “Besides we still got—” 

Ashe flung the axe at Caspar, the hilt striking his temple, and knocking him unconscious. Hubert frantically swung around, changing his expression from panic to devious intent in an instant. 

“You need to be put down this instant!” The Adrestian bounded towards Ashe at high speeds, readying his sword. The Gaspard heir tried to run away, but his sprained ankle did him no favors. Once Hubert had nearly closed in on him, another arrow whizzed by Ashe, slicing the bridge of Hubert’s nose. 

The dark mage’s eyes darted around the field, noticing a wealth of trees near Ashe and him. As a test, he inched closer to Ashe, only to get rewarded with another attempted strike from a bow, this time cutting off a chunk of cloth atop his chest. “It seems you’ve lucked out once again. I don’t have the time or energy to waste on you, when you seem to have more backup. For now, I’ll make my retreat.” And with than, Hubert bolted to the south, as fast as he could possibly go. 

Ashe focused his sights the nearby forest, unable to discern anyone there. He slowly got up and limped to Caspar and Dedue’s unconscious bodies before dragging them along with him, using as much strength as he could muster. As he fled, Ashe watched to see if anyone would swoop in to attack, his mortal terror steadily increasing, but nobody came.

Felix let out an exhausted sigh, wiping off his forehead. “This kid needs to stop raising my blood pressure, already.” 

“Aw, is Felix getting all worried about his new friend?” Sylvain giggled, flashing his teeth with a revolting simper. 

“He's the only one who’s currently in a fight, you dolt.” Felix scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Besides, compared to everyone else, except maybe Mercedes, he has the least amount of firepower and as you’ve seen, he’s already on the ropes. And why is he wasting his energy hauling to bodies? Is he—” 

“Uh, not to break up your little chat...” Jeralt poked Felix’s shoulder, gesturing to the eastern side of the valley. “But that little guy isn’t the only one of yours that’s currently getting his shit kicked in.” 

The young warrior peered to where the Breaking Blade was looking to find that, to his shock, Dimitri was currently at the mercy of Byleth, Dorothea, and Edelgard, his powerful swings constantly missing as the Ashen Demon wailed on him, relentlessly. For each swing of his lance, the mercenary gave him two or three hits of her own, for every step he made to collect himself, the princess of Enbarr mightily swung her axe, keeping him in check. And when he was too far for either to lay waste to him, Dorothea called upon a bolt of lightning, which while only moderately powerful, was more than enough to keep the future king from escaping. 

**_How is he getting pushed back so far? He’s normally relentless, when he fights. What gives, you damn boar?_ **

The prince was slowly losing his balance, his aim getting sloppy, panicking as the rush of sharp blades and blunt fists and feet clobbered him, to kingdom come. Then, a glint of blue flashed in his eyes, and a spectral, azure lightning coated his body, with an identically colored insignia manifesting in front of him. Felix and Sylvain recoiled at the sight of the Blaiddyd family Crest, knowing full well what it entailed. Byleth flipped backwards, away from Dimitri, and Edelgard quickly followed suit. 

**_Oh great, the boar prince is losing control, this is going get bad, fast._ **

Despite missing his targets, Dimitri’s utterly ferocious slash released a powerful burst of wind, blowing the three women back several feet, throwing Dorothea to the ground. The gust arose to the top of the mountain, the cold breeze blasting in the students’ faces. 

“Well, it was nice knowing your daughter while it lasted, Jeralt!” Sylvain nervously chuckled, as his countenance contorted to one of pure fear. 

Dorothea groaned as she pulled herself off the ground, before panicking at the sight of the monstrous living weapon that stood before her. Even Byleth and Edelgard looked fearful, if even just a little bit. 

“What kind of freak is that kid?” Jeralt’s jaw hung wide open, his eyes also doing the same. “There’s no way that prince of yours can be that strong, right?” 

“The boar is a special case.” Felix placed his thumbnail by his teeth in apprehension. “Sometimes his Crest tends to activate all on its own, without his input. With it, his already obscene strength doubles.” Felix tented both his hands in front of his face, trying to regain composure. “He may not be able to bring it out whenever he wants, but regardless, this isn’t good news for anyone nearby.” 

As Felix explained the situation, Dimitri lunged towards the Black Eagles, leaving massive imprints where he once stood. He swiped with his lance once more, mangling the grass and soil beneath Byleth. 

* * *

As Ashe limped towards the Blue Lions base, huffing and panting from exertion, he heard several explosions off in the distance, chilling him to the bone, wondering what on earth was going on, just beyond himself. 

“Ashe!” Closer to the north, Mercedes was running towards the injured knight, her palm shrouded in a mystical white and light green light. 

In a matter of moments, the wound on Ashe’s leg fully healed, his full range of motion restored. In a fit of worry, Mercedes embraced Ashe. “Are you alright? Are _they_ alright?” 

Ashe, meanwhile was blushing furiously. “Y-yes, I’m fine. As for the other two, they’re out cold, but badly beaten.” He skittishly stroked the back of his noggin. “I know Caspar’s not exactly one of ours, but could you—” 

The pious woman nodded her head with an expression of sincere delight. “Consider it done!” 

Ashe sighed with relief as his heartbeat finally began to calm. “Thank you so much, Mercedes, you’re a big he—” The freckled child snapped back to the situation at hand, darting his head all over the place. “Do you have any idea where are those explosions coming from?” 

Mercedes pointed out towards the southeast. “It’s His Highness, he was being attacked by a few Black Eagles, and then—” 

Without missing a beat, Ashe sprung up, rushing towards the deafening eruptions of noise. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” The gentle healer cried out. 

“I’m not about to leave His Highness to get attacked, I have to protect him, at all costs!” The ex-commoner tightly grasped his axe, pushing his speed to its absolute limit. “You take care of those two while I back him up!” 

“No, Ashe! That’s not what’s—” Mercedes shouted, before another explosion cut out her cries. 

As Ashe got closer, the blast of sound and wind got more powerful, raising his adrenaline. And once he finally made it to the prince’s location, his eyes widened in shock. 

The grassy plains had been near completely uprooted, dirt had been flung from the ground to far up the wall of rock and the nearby forest. Beyond that stood Dimitri, throwing his bisected lance to the side and unsheathing his sword. Scattered around him were Edelgard, Byleth, and Dorothea, the latter seemingly on the verge of tears. 

“What’s wrong?” Dimitri snarked, a grin on his face. “Aren’t you going to try and attack me? Or are you just going to keep evading me, all day?” 

He charged towards Byleth at a breakneck pace, with each footstep thundering against the earth. However, a dark force flared up behind him, causing Dimitri to lose his balance. Ashe rotated around to find Hubert, his palm smoking from yet another shadowy blast. Undoubtedly thanks to the previous scuffles, his breath was heavy, and his nose had a nasty, faintly drying scab.

Seeing this new opportunity, the Ashen Demon closed the gap and yanked the royal’s mess of blonde hair, pulling his face down as she struck it with her knee. Blood spurted from Dimitri’s nostrils, as he roared in pain. 

Sylvain winced and raised his arms in front of his body in a sense of mutually shared pain. “He’s going to be feeling _that_ one, later on.” 

“Considering the damage he’s been dealing every which way and sideways, I’m not inclined to feel worried, about him.” Jeralt huffed, folding his arms together. 

Ashe booked it to his lordship’s side, only to be struck down by an unseen thunderbolt, conjured by Dorothea, making him fall and reel from the stinging pain. 

Byleth swung her feet at Dimitri’s ankles, knocking him flat on his back. As Dimitri tried to duck out of the way, Byleth bashed her knee against his stomach, with the force of her entire bodyweight, prompting the prince to once again yell out in agony. She took her sword and lined up its edge, right by her adversary’s throat, only to find him unconscious, from her bombardment. 

Above them, Jeralt quietly grunted and pumped his fist, with a wide smile spread across his face. 

“Your Highness!” Ashe bellowed, forcing himself onto his feet. Byleth let her knee off Dimitri’s abdomen, her focus now squarely on Ashe, unconvincingly trying his hardest to feign bravery as he shakingly held his axe, as the other three remaining Black Eagles also set their sights on him. 

“So, uh... Felix?” Sylvain tugged his collar. “I take back what I said about him not being screwed, he’s done for.” 

“You’re telling me this _now_?” Felix yelled, leaning over the very edge of the cliff. 

Byleth dispassionately cracked her knuckles. "I'll give you the option, Ashe: quit while you can, or stay and face the four of us. Your choice."

As much as Ashe would like to, he forced himself to stand his ground, axe in hand, in the face of the quartet of soldiers who stared him down. 

Byleth raised her right hand above her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She dropped her arm forward, silently commanding the other Black Eagles to attack. 

As they dashed towards the lone Blue Lion, two arrows shot in from the side, sniping Dorothea and knocking her out. From Ashe's right, to the forest he was originally laying wait in, a voice shouted out to him, "take this," and a bow fell right by his feet.

Without missing a beat, Ashe aimed two arrows at Hubert, firing them as hard as he possibly could. Hubert, just barely noticing an arrow out of the corner of his eye, swerved with a final umbral sphere in his palm, but was too slow to stop Ashe’s assault from striking his shoulder and chest, downing the dark mage. 

Sylvain cupped his hands over the sides of his mouth. “Yeah, Ashe! Show those guys what the Blue Lions are made of!” 

**_How does he keep getting these stupid, lucky breaks?_ **

Felix clasped his forehead. “Whatever, the point is that he’s got a fighting chance.” The future duke stood up and screeched from the mountaintop. “This is your chance, Ashe! Don’t you _dare_ let it go to waste!” 

Ashe, faintly hearing Felix’s threat of encouragement, steeled himself and prepared another arrow. “Right!” His bow heaving the shaft towards Byleth, who cleanly shredded it in two, with her sword. 

Edelgard, spotting where the bow and first set of arrows originated from, made a break for the close by forest, a bright crimson aura with an immaculate white center surrounded her as the Crest of Seiros's emblem glistened at her front. Belying her small frame, Edelgard felled several trunks of the nearby forest in one mighty swipe, nearly destroying the entire patch of trees, all together. 

Right above her, a man bounded from the treetops in an extravagant set of flips, hurling another arrow down on the house leader. Edelgard managed to get her body out of the way, but her cape was shredded apart by the bolt from above. 

The man landed right by Ashe, who recognized the former instantly. “Claude!?” 

The Golden Deer’s leader gave his signature two-fingered salute. “Hey, Ashe, how’s it going? Need a little help?” 

“Considering who I’m up against, yes, very much so.” Ashe pivoted his head around, smiling. “Claude, thank you.” 

The Alliance noble clicked his tongue and winked. “Sure thing, Ashe. Now, let’s show these girls a thing or two, shall we?” He lobbed an arrow at Byleth, who swerved her head sideways, running headlong towards the two bowmen. 

Edelgard sprung into the sky, her axe above her head, and her expression taciturn. Ashe slung a bolt at her, nicking her shoulder, before nearly being met with Edelgard’s axe. Ashe ducked and weaved out of the way, with a few hairs on his head shredded off, from the near-hit. 

The Adrestian princess switched targets to Claude, swinging her weapon at full force, whiffing as the Leicester noble stylishly slid under her attack, using his knees to spin along the ground. He readied a shot from his bow, but unluckily for him, the Ashen Demon was right behind him, bashing her leg into his abdomen, causing Claude’s head to smack against the earth. With a jump to the sky, she held her sword downward, preparing to finish Claude off. He pushed himself off the ground, away from the mercenary, though she seemingly knew what he’d do, and threw her blade at his head, leaving a bloody wound on his cheek, for his troubles. 

“Tch. You two are quite a bit tougher than I gave you credit for.” He wiped his hand against his hemorrhaging face. “Who would’ve thought a cute little princess and some random merc could harm my handsome, rascally face?” The noble gave another of his winks, with a playful smirk, in spite of the gash near his lips. 

“Careful, Claude.” Edelgard wagged her finger. “You’re simply delaying the inevitable. We’ll most certainly win this, so how about you stop making this so hard on yourself and surrender?” The empress-to-be sported a bold smile. 

“Losing hasn’t even crossed your mind, has it?” Claude placed a hand over his half-open, sarcastic mouth. “Ooh, this’ll probably be a bit of a shock for you, Princess.” 

Edelgard lunged at Claude, crushing the dirt below him with her axe, as he acrobatically pirouetted in the air, away from her. Edelgard flipped her long, pearly hair out of her lavender eyes. “No offense, Claude, but what do you and this boy think you can accomplish, against me and my teacher?” She twirled her axe forward, so effortlessly it was like it weighed as much as a feather. “In fact, where is the rest of your house? I know you still had Professor Manuela and Hilda, was it? What happened to them?” 

Claude shrugged his shoulders. “Alas, they got taken out in battle a little bit ago, now it’s just me and Ashe, over here.” He pointed his thumb at Ashe, before readying another arrow, his sights set squarely on Edelgard. “And hey, he managed to stick it out this long, so he at least has _something_ going for him.” 

Ashe squinted his eyes at his battle partner, his mouth slightly agape. “Um... thanks?” 

The tanned man lightly chuckled. “Anyway, you needn’t worry your pretty little head, I can handle myself just fine. You get used to working alone, after a while.” A swirling golden breeze surrounded Claude as what appeared to be a crescent moon flashed in front of his arrow. As Edelgard braced herself, Claude swerved towards Byleth without warning, firing a shot coated in a yellow wind at her, slicing her leg. Once his arrow connected, the trickster briefly flashed a golden light, the cut on his face completely gone, as he once again wore a self-congratulatory grin. “Crests, you’ve got to love them, sometimes.” 

Without even wincing, Byleth charged towards Claude, briefly unnerving him, as her fists started to fly. Claude bobbed and weaved throughout each strike, overturning over her head, before instantly being dragged down back to Earth by his golden cloth by the Ashen Demon. 

Ashe prepared his bow only for Edelgard to rush in with her axe, her swipes both perfectly precise and unflinchingly ferocious. For as quick on his feet as Ashe is, he couldn’t prevent getting several deep scrapes and cuts from her wooden axe just barely carving his flesh. “Enough,” he shouted, as he smashed his foot against Edelgard’s side. To his dismay, that only gave her an opening to grab the boy by the leg and slam him on the ground. 

In response, Ashe kicked out the princess’s legs from under her, briefly toppling her over, and bouncing back on his feet, firing an arrow at Byleth. 

Through a simple stretch of the arm, she caught the arrow and flung it back at him, its velocity terrifyingly high, grazing Ashe’s cheek. 

Thankfully for Claude, he was able to use that opportunity to flip himself back up, nicking Byleth’s chin with his heel as he kicked her off. He spiraled backwards once more, shooting Byleth directly in her thigh, this time causing her to grimace. 

“My teacher!” Edelgard sprang back into action, once again glowing a in a blinding red-and-white light, catapulting herself towards the future sovereign duke. 

Ashe instantly saw his chance and let loose a barrage of arrows, nailing Edelgard’s shoulder, thigh, and abdomen, leading to an ungracious fall, by the Black Eagle leader. 

“Edelgard!” Byleth shouted, before Claude fired an arrow far stronger than any shot he’d made before, right in her shoulder. The Ashen Demon flew backwards, crashing next to Edelgard, both their eyes closed shut. 

“Di-did he just?” Felix was utterly beside himself. “That’s not-no, that can’t have been it.” He began to smile, ever so slightly, in pride. 

Sylvain was just as taken aback as his cliff mate. “He actually took—” Sylvain pumped his fist and shouted, “Way to show them, Ashe! All right, that’s almost all of them!” 

Claude raised his hand to pat his fellow archer on the back, only for Ashe to instinctively flinch. “Oh, right, I forgot what happened the last time someone tried that.” He placed his hands behind his back, laughing to himself. “Thanks for the save there, Ashe. I never would’ve been able to take Byleth out if it weren’t for you saving my skin.” 

Ashe wildly shook his head. “No, it’s me who should thank you. If you never showed up, and helped me out, I never would’ve made it this far.” 

“True enough.” Claude amicably grinned, turning his back to Ashe. “Oh, and you _might_ want to take a look at that bow you’re carrying, something tells me you'll like it.” 

“What do you—” Ashe’s voice carried a slight concern, before looking down at his bow. 

“ _ASHE_!” Felix shouted at the top of his lungs. “Get out of there, _NOW_!” 

“No...” In Ashe’s hand wasn’t just any bow, it was a training bow, a far more beginner-friendly variant that _Mercedes_ was using, unlike his iron bow. “Wait, how did you get this?” 

“Oh, Ashe, _Ashe_...” Claude’s smile turned from friendly to deeply sinister, on a level Hubert could only dream to attain. “You really shouldn’t have taken a gift from an enemy at face value, there, you know!” The noble flipped two arrows into the air. 

Ashe went to ready another his bow and reached for his quiver, only to find out his ammunition was gone. He looked up, seeing Claude’s quiver containing a wealth of spare arrows. The frightful boy grasped his sword hilt, but it wasn't there, and once he looked back up, Ashe noticed it just faintly sticking out of Claude's sash, along with his other weapon.

_NO!!!_

Claude’s arrows landed perfectly in the bow’s string, and he spun around and fired an incredibly powerful dual shot in the blink of an eye, felling Ashe in one shot, before he could brace himself. 

Ashe was flung backwards, his ears ringing and the world around him spinning and multiplying. Claude pounced on top of him, holding Ashe's sword to his gullet. 

“You ever wonder how I lost my other teammates, Ashe?” Claude tightened the grip on the weapon, his smugness ringing through each and every word. “Because we were busy taking out the rest of the Blue Lions, while you were focusing on protecting your prince. By the by, it sure was nice of you to get both a Black Eagle _and_ one of your own Blue Lion classmates taken out, for me.” 

Felix in a panic switched his gaze to the Blue Lions starting point, finding Mercedes and Hanneman on the ground along with Manuela and a woman with bright pink pigtails, all four unconscious. A sleeping Dedue laid nearby, while Caspar was groggily waking up, clutching his head. Felix pounded the cliffside below him. “Damn it! We’re done for!” 

As that was happening, Ashe’s mind flashed back throughout the mock battle, until... “Wait, those arrows—from my fight with Caspar and Hubert, that was you!” 

“Bingo.” Claude batted one eye, clearly enjoying every second of their exchange. “I needed somebody that wasn’t a teammate to keep the Black Eagles at bay, and why not the scrappy little guy, who wanted so hard to prove himself, and who was tasked with getting our attention.” He once again sardonically covered his mouth. “Oh, sorry, probably should’ve mentioned—if you want your ‘game winning strategy’ to work, you might want to make sure your enemies aren’t eavesdropping on you.” 

Ashe breathlessly hacked and coughed from the weight Golden Deer’s entire body crushing his lungs, the faintest amount of blood oozed from his lips and puncture wound. “You _used_ me!” He shouted at his adversary, with a pained glower. 

Claude's smile faded into a half-frown, swiftly yanking the ammo out of Ashe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Ashe, but I’m afraid that's just how the world works. You might as well learn this now and not later.” The gold-draped noble pointed to himself. “And hey, it’s on you that you decided to believe the embodiment of dist—.” 

Claude was then thrown into the ground, beside Ashe, with an axe and a sword crossing each other, above his neck. Before Ashe could move, a black boot pressed on top of his sternum. 

“Don’t even think about it, kid, you’ve already lost.” He peered up to find Byleth and Edelgard, both now with the arrows removed from their bodies. 

“Oh, Claude, _Claude_...” Edelgard gave a grin that embodied superiority. “You really shouldn’t take a fall from an enemy at face value!” 

“Wait, you—” Claude yelled, his voice muffled by the ground blocking his face. 

“Faked getting taken out? Yup.” In Byleth’s voice, there was the smallest, almost imperceptible hint of snark. 

“I must say, my teacher,” Edelgard turned her eyes to Byleth as her demeanor became increasingly self-pleased. “I _have_ to thank you for taking me aside, to warn me about Claude. How _did_ you ever figure that out, again?” 

Byleth leaned down to Claude, evidently wanting him to listen in. “Oh, you have Hubert to thank for that one. He noticed one too many breaths, out by our classroom. And since you told us earlier about how you're the 'embodiment of distrust,' it wasn't hard to figure out you were up to something.” 

“And I also have to thank you for suggesting we play dead, that was such an _inspired_ choice. Isn’t taking someone by their word great, Claude?” Behind Edelgard's smugness was an incredibly small, almost restrained giggle, like she was holding her own immense glee back. 

“This can’t be fair, right? I already had you knocked down, doesn’t that count as a win, for me?” Claude whined, as he was being lifted up by the arms, his face slathered in mud and weapons still by his neck. 

“Hey, Dad!” Byleth loudly droned to the mountaintop. “Claude wants to know if playing dead means that you forfeit. You agree with that?” 

Jeralt laughed as loud as he possibly could, nearly deafening Felix and Sylvain. “You tell that brat down there that if he wants to play dirty, he’s gonna have to accept someone else getting a dirty win! And on that note...” Jeralt reeled back his skull, puffing his chest forward. He thrust his head forward and screamed with all his might, “The winner of this mock battle is... The Black Eagle House! 

Claude let out a deep sigh, rubbing the soil off his face with his sleeve. “And once again, the whole world is out to get me.” 

Byleth bent over to Ashe, taking her foot off him and extending her arm. “Sorry we had to trick you, like that. Claude didn’t give us much choice.” 

“It’s alright.” Ashe gripped her hand, pulling his still-dazed self up. “I was already swindled into being another’s prop anyway, it seems.” 

Byleth tilted her head sideways, staring confusedly at Ashe. “You still made it to the final four, didn’t you?” 

“Well, yes, but I only did so because I had someone else essentially making me coast, there.” Ashe’s eyes hung gloomily above his feet. “I can’t say that I exactly proved myself.” 

Byleth raised one eyebrow, almost as a sign of concern. “If you managed to survive that long, isn’t that enough proof? It’s not like you didn’t score a single victory.” 

“I guess to put it a different way...” Ashe began to blush, flustered at his failing to articulate. “It just isn’t very knightly to have my placement practically handed to me.” 

“So, you want to be a knight, huh?” Byleth’s deep blue eyes moved up and down, as if she was observing the timid soldier. “Hm.” She turned back towards Edelgard, who was waking up her fellow Black Eagles. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know where Caspar is, would you?” 

Ashe took his hand to his chin, memories of the previous fight rushing through his head. “Oh, right! I left him and Dedue in the north, with Mercedes... Oh no, are they all o—” 

“ASHE!” Caspar’s voice energetically rang just behind his professor, startling the other two, before sweeping Ashe off his feet in an excited tackle. 

“Ah, there he is.” Byleth matter-of-factly declared, moving back towards the other Black Eagles as she waved. “It was good talking to you, Ashe. Later.” 

Caspar rubbed his knuckles on Ashe’s cranium, once again beaming. “That was a dirty trick you pulled, there! And look at you, taking on two house leaders, like that!” The cyan-haired bruiser jovially wrapped his arm around his taller friend. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing so well.” Ashe’s face nervously lit up. “You’re not mad at all about me taking that cheap shot?” 

Caspar gave him a friendly punch to the arm, nearly accidentally popping it out of Ashe’s arm socket. “Hey, don’t worry about it! Besides, with that gag we pulled with Dorothea, I’d say we’re even!” 

Ashe’s face flushed bright red. “Speaking of... can we just forget that last part ever happened? Please?” 

While Ashe and Caspar were conversing in the field below, Felix gritted his teeth in frustration. “Damn it! Not only did we lose, but we were dead last!” He began frenziedly rubbing the sides of his head, on the verge of pulling his hairs out. “And Ashe was doing _fine_ until Claude stuck a knife in his back! I mean, putting aside that Claude is the reason he got so far." 

Sylvain burst out in a laughing fit, shedding tears and holding his sides as he did so. 

“Oh, what’s so funny now, Sylvain?” Felix shot daggers at the laughing philanderer. “Is us getting floored that hysterical, to you?” 

Sylvain wiped the water from his eyes, placing his open palm in front of himself. “No, no, that’s not it. I just never thought you’d get so passionate about this. You weren’t even _a part_ of the fight, and you’re getting all stressed out over someone else you barely know losing! I’ve _never_ seen you get like this, over someone else. Usually you’d just scoff and viciously critique them, like,” Sylvain crossed his arms, bearing a nauseating face of fake contempt. “‘Of course, that weakling lost, he wasn’t nearly capable of taking all of them on, the damn fool.’” 

“Oh, well I’m sorry my you find my anger _so_ hilarious.” Felix folding his arms, scowling like he’d never scowled before. 

“My point exactly. There’s something about that kid that’s got you so ticked off, huh?” Sylvain bore another agonizing smile, though there seemed to be something strangely different about his demeanor, in his eyes.

“I...” Felix sighed and grasped the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Look, nevermind. The point is that we've lost, and we got humiliated in the process.” 

“Uh huh.” Sylvain rolled his eyes as he stood up. “Sure, that’s all, Felix, whatever you say.” He gestured his hand his pouting classmate. “Alright, I think it’s about time we headed out, yeah.” 

Felix slapped away Sylvain’s hand, before lifting himself to hit feet. “Once the Battle of Eagle and Lion rolls around, there’s zero possibility we’ll crush them.” 

Sylvain rolled his eyes as he slapped Felix's back. “Ever the focused one, I see.”

The younger man elbowed Sylvain's ribs as he stormed off to the rest of his classmates while his frustration continued to build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- As you can see, I get a little carried away when I get to write down a fight scene. I promise that the next few chapters won't be nearly as long, a battle royale has a lot of moving parts, even when primarily focusing on one guy (though part of that is my fault for trying to have so many characters have their time to shine in one fight. And we aren't even at the bigger battles, yet!). That said, these are easily some of my favorite parts to write, that aren't poking fun at the rest of the cast.
> 
> \- So writing Ashe's and Felix's dynamic with each other is gonna be a bit strange. Felix in game can flip between being really rude and really kind and wise, depending on the conversation, and Ashe's supports with him are no exception to that, so my scenes between the two might go back and forth between rough and smooth, for a little bit. And because like Ashe, he's a teen, that means even he can have an outburst or seven.
> 
> \- [I kind of merged the kits each character has as an enemy and as a playable character for the mock battle](https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Ashe#Playable), because there's no way I could get the twist at the end to work if both Ashe and Mercedes wielded the same weapons. I also gave him the sword because a lot of the guys have one strapped to their sides in their uniforms, so why not use that in battle?
> 
> \- When originally planning this, I always intended Sylvain and Felix to be color commentators, but first it was supposed to be the Blue Lions talking over the fight, but then I realized Jeralt was watching over the mock battle and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity of having those three talk over the fight.
> 
> \- For this story, I'm going to be portraying crests as a sort of super move/mode for combat. The game is pretty vague about the exact nature of how crests work (they give an edge in combat, apparently, and Catherine theorizes weather manipulation, they let people safely use Heroes Relics and get the most out of Sacred Weapons, and I think that's it), so since they all run on percentages to activate in-game, I'm going to try to implement a bit of a stamina mechanic to it in later fights, to prevent battles from being solely a numbers game.


	4. Virtues at Odds

Felix collapsed into his seat at the dining hall table and threw his vest over his chair, exhausted and drenched in sweat, his arms heavy from a full day of nothing but weeding and sword practice. It was quite late in the evening, as the sun almost set in Garreg Mach, and the dining hall was near completely empty. 

When he looked up, he saw Ashe drop to the seat in front of him, looking like an utterly savaged mess. His arm was covered in bandages, scratch and char marks adorned his face, he reeked of noxious-smelling burns, and his clothes looked a bit on the crispy side. 

“The hell happened to _you_?” Felix barked as he lifted his brows.

Ashe began to rub his aching arm, in an attempt to soothe it. “You know how I was assigned for sky patrol duty? Needless to say, the wyvern I was tasked with didn’t exactly care for me, compared to the other students’ animals, and instead of giving it a whirl, he gave _me_ a whirl.” 

“Well, it’s your fault for letting everyone else go on ahead when you were given first dibs, because of the mock battle.” Felix bluntly responded, as he bit into his meat skewer. “You could’ve just gone for riding or hunting duty, but you decided to wait for the others.” 

“I wanted to make sure everybody in the Blue Lions got a shot at what they wanted, though. And who knows? It’s just my first day, things might change later o—.” Ashe cringed in pain as his sear wounds flared up. “I see that your job hasn’t been that fun for you, either? You’re out pretty late, like me.” 

The navy-haired noble wearily sighed. “Yup. You’d be surprised how tiring that gets after several hours. I didn’t even have the energy to go and train. _Me_ , for crying out loud!” His eyes peered into Ashe’s. “I was working with that friend of yours—Caspar, I think. He basically tore up the entire place, screaming something about how, ‘you can’t get a good sweat without pushing yourself to the limit.’” 

The commoner lightly chuckled. “That sounds like him, alright. Did he wear you out?” 

Felix smirked and shook his head. “No, if anything, he made it easier, because he kept Sylvain occupied, for me, so I kind of owe him for that. Made that tedious process a lot more bearable. Helps that him ripping the place apart made it quicker. Though the guards sure felt like bellyaching to us about that, after we'd finished.” He leaned back in his chair, groaning and clasping his forehead. “Still, that took _way_ too long.” 

Ashe birthed a grin of his own. “What did I tell you about weeds swallowing you whole?” 

“It was still a dumb statement, for the record.” Felix admonished. “But I’ll admit, you were right about them growing quick. Almost made it feel like we were just running in circles, trying to weed the place. Also, do you have any clue why Caspar was using some underwear as a sweat rag?” 

Ashe was whipped into a coughing fit, choking on his sandwich. “He _what_?” 

Felix snickered to himself, before making a rubbing gesture towards his forehead. “You didn’t know, huh? He was wiping his forehead with some blue undergarment, of sorts. I wasn’t about to bring that up while he cleaned house, and he just bolted off, before I could ask him about it.” 

The young knight could barely hold himself together, filled with mixed emotions of disgust and immense amusement. “I... can’t say he ever told me about... _that_ before.” 

“And _I_ can’t say I thought you’d get a kick out of that.” Felix prodded, slightly entertained. “I thought you’d be too uptight, to laugh t that sort of thing.” 

Ashe recollected himself, brushing the tears out of his eyes. “Oh, it’s not something I generally talk about. I actually have my adoptive mother to thank for that.” His face was plastered with a massive smile as he reminisced. “She’d often show me some of the raunchier tales in Lonato’s collection, which often frustrated him to no end.” 

The boy let out a slight chortle, and excitement began to fill out his voice. “There was this one time, she was reading me a particularly... risqué book. It involved a lot of explicit detail about... let's just call it a gathering of people, and you should've seen Lonato’s face, when he overheard her. I’d never known him to be so mortified, before then.” 

“Goddess, I can only imagine.” Felix looked up to the ceiling, mildly grinning at the thought. “I never knew his wife to be so dirty-minded.” 

“Again, we don’t really talk about it much. Seiros knows how Lonato would react to other people finding out, about that.” 

The swordsman pointed at Ashe, his smirk growing. “Between the cheap shots at the mock battle, and now this, you’ve changed my opinion of you quite a bit. I originally took you for a prim doormat, but I guess I was proven wrong.” 

“Well, I can’t say that I was particularly happy that I had to resort to tactics, like that.” Ashe began to cool down, his face more subdued. “But when you spend most of your life in poverty, you begin to pick up on some underhanded behaviors, to survive, even when it’s not something I like doing.” 

Felix crossed his arms, his smile fading into a look of slight intrigue. “Underhanded behaviors, like...?” 

The eviscerated student twiddled his thumbs. “Thievery, mostly. It was to survive, but that was a sorry way of making a living, I'm aware. I've probably hurt a lot of people, doing that. Regardless of who I was trying to help."

Ashe played around with the food on his plate, anxiously trying to focus on something else, before another thought managed to cross his mind. “So, Sylvain told me how angry you were getting at me, throughout that match. Was I really that bad?” 

Felix sighed and rubbed his temples, agitated with the red-haired annoyance. “Of course, he’d tell you.” He readjusted himself in his seat and placed his cupped hands on the dining table. “Alright, I got a bit... irritated during that match. I just was a little caught up in the moment, and I got frustrated because I thought we got so close, that’s all.” 

Ashe stared blankly at him. “Then what about all those other times, before the match ended?” 

The swordsman cleared his throat, his aggravation building. “Again, heat of the moment, that’s all.” He rose from his seat, grabbing his plate and the remains of his skewers. “Anyway, I have to get going, all that work has drained me of any energy.” 

Before leaving, he turned back to Ashe, his voice tinged with a deep sincerity. “Look, for what it’s worth, you didn’t do all that bad. You could’ve caught onto Claude _sooner_ , granted, but you still managed to make it to the end. Take pride in that, Ashe.” 

Felix left the dining hall, food in hand, as Ashe looked back down towards his meal, smiling to himself. 

As Felix made his way towards the dormitory, he overheard Byleth’s monotone speech, near the pond in front of the cafeteria’s steps. “I’d recommend just forgetting about your underwear, Dorothea, for your sake.” 

* * *

“Hope you're ready for a world of pain!” Caspar shouted as he flung himself at Felix, screaming and revving back his arm. 

Felix caught his opponent’s fist with his palm, generating an extremely smug expression. He twisted Caspar’s arm back, making him yelp, before Felix laid into two blows to his stomach and face. While Caspar was stunned, the navy-haired noble swung his leg to his adversary’s neck. The boisterous brawler was sent flying across the room, rolling head over foot for a considerable distance, groaning once he’d finally stopped skidding across the ground. 

“Another win.” Felix smirked to himself, utterly satisfied with his performance. 

He walked over to the downed boy, before Caspar immediately leapt up from being knocked down, only to collapse once again, still whirling from that kick. “Yep, okay, I’m done.” 

“I’ll admit, you’re not half bad.” Felix stretched his arm towards Caspar. “But I'm out of your league.” He pulled him back up, as the Bergliez heir wobbled on his feet. 

“Yeah... I could... tell...” Caspar's eyes constantly moved all over the place, in a daze. His cheeks began to puff up and he held his hand on his mouth, trying not to vomit. Once he collected himself, he let out a huge breath. “You really didn't let up on me, there." 

“For your sake, you should be glad you didn't break anything of his.” The two looked up to find Hubert behind a nearby column, draped in its shadow. 

Caspar immediately jumped back and raised his hands at the forefront of his head. “Woah, Hubert! When’d you get there?” 

“I’ve been here the whole time, to make sure you don’t end up getting yourself hurt, again.” The ghoulish man’s tone carried a heavy dosage of annoyance. “We have a mission coming up, and the last thing Lady Edelgard and the rest of the Black Eagles need is for one of us to be taken out of commission, beforehand.” His eyes darted to Felix. “It would be in your best interest not to mangle one of our classmates.” 

Felix scoffed and directed his finger at Caspar. “We were just having a sparring match, it's not like I was trying to seriously hurt him. Look, he’s still breathing, isn’t he?” 

Hubert scrunched up his nose in response. “Considering we'll be needing him later on, it’s only natural that I warn you.” 

“It’s alright, Hubert, I’m all good!” Caspar placed his hand on his flexed-up shoulder. “I wasn’t about to get hurt, from just one beat down.” 

“I wasn’t aware that Lady Edelgard or the professor had changed their minds on you dueling with other classmates.” Hubert leered at his comrade. “And regardless, you didn’t seem fine when you were stumbling around like a drunk, just a moment ago.” He sternly pointed his arm at the exit. “I also came because Professor Byleth wanted to see you. She said you were in need of tutoring, after your performance on the last test.” 

Caspar hung his head back, loudly whimpering. “Why _me_? Why now?” He made his way towards the door, waving at Felix. “Welp, thanks for the brawl, Felix! Can’t wait to fight ya next time!” 

The deathly mage shouted back at the loud brawler. “You still aren’t allo— and... he’s already gone. Of course.” He deeply sighed as he rubbed his forehead. 

Felix approached Hubert, squinting his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you didn’t just come here for your classmate?” 

Hubert chuckled to himself as he birthed a small, sickening grin. “Quite the observant one, aren’t you?” His foreboding gaze shifted back to the fellow noble. “Well, let’s just say that I’m... evaluating you.” 

Felix gripped the hilt of his sword. “Any particular reason?” 

The pasty butler placed his hand to his chest, eyeing Felix’s hand. “Oh, my reasons for doing so are not as sinister as you think. I’m just curious about you.” 

The swordsman’s caution didn’t waiver. “What on earth would you be curious about _me_ , for?” 

Hubert placed the side of his hand right underneath his raised lips. “For one, you are quite the capable unit. I’ve heard tales about the famed swordsman from the Fraldarius family for a while now. Cutting down his enemies in a pristine, yet brutal fashion. It gave me the impression you were like the knights of your home, obsessed with violence and battles in the name of your country.” 

It took everything in Felix not to throw up, upon hearing that. “Ugh, never. Those idiots are a poor man’s warrior, at best. Constantly proclaiming chivalry and fetishizing death, and calling it duty.” He let loose a disgusted noise. “Consider that the worst thing you could call me.” 

“You didn’t let me finish.” Hubert’s sinister smile grew ever-so-slightly. “While you do seem to love a fight, even more so than your brethren, you also seem to hold none of the values of your compatriots. Quite frankly, I shouldn’t have expected so little of you.” 

Felix relaxed his hold on his sword, his face loosening up, if only a little. “Go on...” 

The mysterious man started to pace around the Blue Lion. “I’ve also heard about your fury at not being taught by my professor, you seem to have a great desire to grow, if I’m not mistaken. And with your talent, it frankly feels like a waste, to be working under someone you clearly hold no love for—” 

“Get. To. The. Point.” The irritable man scowled at Hubert, annoyed at him dancing around the question. 

“Why do you remain with them?” The Black Eagle’s grin faded into a more stern, diplomatic appearance. “You’re allowed to change courses to a different professor, if you so desire, but you seem adamant to stay behind. Why is that?” 

Felix moved his fingers through his well-kempt hair. “So, you’re recruiting me, huh? Thanks, but no thanks. Much as I’d like, I have to keep guard of the people I grew up with. Someone has to make sure the boar, Ingrid, and unfortunately Sylvain make it out alive, otherwise the chaos in Faerghus will only get worse.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing as he did so. “That’s what pissed me off—I was stuck with my colleagues and I didn’t even have an instructor worth a damn.” 

Felix looked up towards Hubert’s ominous, light green eyes. “Why do you care so much about some random student from another class, though? Are you that desperate to win the next mock battle, in six moons?” 

Hubert shook his head and gave a quiet, menacing laugh. “Oh, it’s not something as trivial as that. Lady Edelgard dreams of a world where people can grow and rise up for themselves, as do I, and seeing someone squander their talents... well, it’s distressing, to put it mildly. To be blunt, I think you’re wasting your potential, Felix. You’re holding yourself back—ironically fulfilling that same duty you claim to despise.” 

This comment incensed Felix, and in a rage, he stomped past Hubert, brushing against his shoulder. 

**_Fulfilling the same duty? That damn bootlicker doesn’t know the first thing about me, and he has the gall to tell me that._ **

He turned his head back towards Hubert as he left, yelling, “ _Never_ say that about me again. Got it? I’m not joining your class, get over it.” 

As Felix stormed off, Hubert called out to him, in a calm, yet firm manner. “At least give it some thought. You’d be much happier if you stopped this arbitrary self-limitation, and I think you know that, as well.” 

Felix continued on, more furious than ever, the anger not only aimed at that insufferable bodyguard, but to himself, as well. 

* * *

Hubert’s words left a bitter aftertaste in Felix’s mouth, riling him up to extraordinary degrees. He needed to find wherever he could find to calm himself down, and since his room was right next to the boar and Sylvain was unfortunately nearby as well, his own room wasn’t even an option, so he furiously marched his way to the library, where at least there was _some_ peace and quiet to be found. 

Once he made it to a lone table where he could relax, he found a book, lying on the table, opened partway through. It seemed to be some sort of... knight tale... lovely. 

"Hey, Felix!” The noble turned behind him to find Ashe, for some reason incredibly cheery. “This is a surprise. I didn't think you had much interest in books. I'm already finished with that one. You can borrow it, if you'd like.” 

Felix shook his head, dismissively, handing the book to Ashe. “No need. I was just curious who it belonged to.” 

The bookworm gently pushed Felix’s hand back towards him. “Why not read a few pages, at least, while you've got it open? I think you'd really like it. The plot is pretty different from a typical knight's tale, but it's still really good. Do you like stories about adventure and chivalry?” 

Felix closed his eyes tight and deeply inhaled through his nostrils, barely able to contain his frustration and disappointment. 

**_Oh great, even he’s just like the rest of them. So much for him not being what I’d thought he was._ **

“No. I despise them.” 

Ashe nervously fidgeted with his fingers. “Yeah, well... Have you tried reading any? You might find them really interesting. I know I do!” 

The warrior crossed his arms, his face questioning his classmate. “What do you find so interesting? They all seem vapid, to me.” 

Ashe tried his best to keep calm, as he started to beam, just thinking about his dreams. “Well, for one thing, the knights in these stories are always gallant and brave. And they always value things like friendship, loyalty, and justice. That's the kind of knight I want to be. 

Utter disgust plastered Felix’s face. “Ridiculous. Friendship, loyalty, justice. Only fools allow their lives to be ruled by such nonsense. Fools who get themselves killed for nothing, only to be celebrated as heroes in books like this. Writers of these stories are worse than tyrants. They seize control of people's thoughts, and tell them that the loss of life is a glorious and righteous affair.” He gritted his teeth and folded his arms, his blood boiling. “What a load of pegasus dung. There’s no meaning in death, no matter how much you wish for it to. When you’re gone, you’re gone.” 

Ashe started taking a slightly defensive stance, raising his palms in front of him. “That's a little much. I was only interested in—” 

Felix angrily put his hand up in front of him, shushing Ashe. “I don't care. Such blind enthusiasm is dangerous.” He harshly poked the child's chest, getting far up in his personal space. “Be more moderate in your passions.” 

Ashe shot a massive glare at the bitter lord-to-be. “You know something, Felix?” 

Felix returned his scowl, quietly challenging him to say something, _anything_ that would convince him. "What," he barked.

As the two stared each other down, Ashe’s frown swiftly turned into an enormous, genuine smile, as he pumped both his arms. “You are exactly like the knight in this story!” 

Felix’s expression changed to immediate bewilderment and stepped back a bit, flabbergasted. “I—E-excuse me?” 

Ashe’s excitable glee continued to grow at an exponential rate. “On the surface, he's sarcastic and intimidating. But underneath, he's kind and cares for his friends. In the end, they become heroes together and conquer all obstacles! That fits you to a T, Felix! 

Felix gulped as a foul taste of bile encroached up his throat. “Disgusting. Stop looking at me like that.” 

Ashe pointed at Felix, practically jumping in joy. “Oh! See? Right there! That's just what I mean! You sound exactly like him!” 

Felix tightened his fist and gritted his teeth, trying desperately hard not to scream and punch something, in frustration. 

Ashe joyfully pressed the book in his belligerent classmate's hands. "I'm going to lend you this book. Really, I insist. Just give it a read, all right? Trust me. And you can tell me what you think when you're done." Immediately after that, he left the library while being unable to contain his excitement

Felix looked down at the book in chagrin, while rubbing his temples, his irritation leaving him with a screaming headache. “Why is this happening to me..."

* * *

“Hey, Ashe.” Claude casually shouted to the treetops, aloft his dark brown wyvern. “You okay up there, buddy?” 

Ashe groaned as he lifted himself off the hefty branch of the tree he fell into. “I’m alright... I think.” 

“You sure?” Claude gave a half-smile, somewhat amused at the situation. “Ol’ Beithir seemed to throw you off pretty hard.” 

The treebound boy gave a thumbs-up from above. "I’m fine, this is the worst thing that he did to me, today, so I’ve made some progress, I guess.” 

The golden noble let out a huge laugh and winked upwards. “Hey, that’s the spirit! I noticed you were covered in a lot less fire, this time around.” 

“Claude, will you quit screwing around and help him out?” Edelgard angrily shouted, riding in on a stark white pegasus. “How long have you just been sitting there?” 

“Yay, more getting yelled at by the princess, lucky me.” Claude whined as he juddered his head left and right. “And for your information, I was making sure he wasn’t hurt. Would kind of be a bad thing if he’d broken something and I accidently nicked it while getting him out, don’t you think?” 

“Ashe! Are you alright!?” Ingrid screamed in a panic, rushing in on her airborne steed.

“I promise that I’m not too injured, everyoooooo—” The bark Ashe was standing on broke from the pressure of his weight. As he fell, Edelgard swooped in and caught him in her deceptively strong arms, gracefully landing in the nearby dirt. 

“Woah, nice save.” The Riegen heir smirked as he saw his fellow archer being momentarily cradled by the future empress. “Hey, Ashe, look at you! All wrapped up in a princess’s arms! Tell me, is it everything you wanted and more?” 

As Ashe blushed and plopped his feet on the soil, Edelgard let out a loud grumble. “Can you stop with the prodding for five minutes?” 

“Seriously, Claude!” Ingrid yelled, folding her arms and frowning. “At least pretend to conduct yourself like a noble should.” 

“Man, you two sure do know how to complain.” Claude covered his eyes with his palm, annoyedly. “I was simply trying to alleviate the situation, a little bit. He _did_ just get catapulted by a wyv—” 

He was interrupted by the loud, deafening screams of Ashe’s dragon, from on high. The mauve beast was wildly flitting about in a sloppy manner, breathing a mass of noxious, sapphire flames. 

“Speaking of which...” Claude patted the side of his wyvern and saluted the other fliers, taking off. “Well, now that I know you’re not dead, I’m going to corral your little friend, Ashe, before it starts throwing _others_ around. I do _not_ feel like getting reamed over hot coals, for this.” 

Ingrid soon followed suit, visibly bothered by Claude’s antics. “I’m glad you’re okay, Ashe, now I have to go make sure Claude doesn’t pull anything stupid.” She quietly groaned as her pegasus began to soar. “Why did there have to be _two_ of him?” 

Ashe sat down on the ground below, bitterly laughing as he brushed his hands through his messy, gray hair. 

“Getting upset with yourself isn’t going to get you anywhere.” Edelgard looked back towards him, her cold gaze piercing through him. 

“I know, it’s just frustrating that I keep messing up.” He balled his fist, his voice shaky. “I was brought here to prove that I was worth Lonato doing so much for me, and I keep messing it all up.” 

Edelgard’s stoic demeanor turned into one of an uncharacteristically somber look, as she leered at her own hand. “I can sympathize with feeling that I’m failing my family.” She sat down beside him, her frown morphing into a small, friendly smile. “And I wouldn’t blame your wyvern troubles on just you—remember, Claude is the one who decided to take on the calmer one.” 

Ashe nodded in disagreement. “I appreciate it, but I can’t make excuses. I won’t become a proper knight by blaming my failures on.” 

The Adrestian princess warily squinted her eyes. “Why is it that you want to become a knight, Ashe?” 

He immediately perked up upon being asked, before remembering his conversation with Felix the night before, and how he’d been thoroughly torn down. 

_“Such blind enthusiasm is dangerous. Be more moderate in your passions.” _

“I don’t suppose it really matters, does it? My reasons are plenty stupid, anyway.” 

Edelgard begat a vexed scowl. “How am I supposed to know if your reasons are stupid if you won’t even tell me? If you’re going to complain to me about how you can’t achieve your dreams, the least you can do is explain what they even are.” 

Ashe’s eyes were centered firmly toward the ground. “It’s just... ever since I was saved by Lonato, I always valued how virtuous and selfless he is. He embodies everything that the knight’s tales are about, and I want to be able to live up to that, you know?” 

A deep, indescribable pain coated Edelgard’s face, and soon her eyes also targeted the earth. “I understand the feeling of meeting high expectations, believe me, I do.” She looked back up to Ashe, inquisitively. “Though, correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems you seem to be more after an ideal, rather than a position, am I not mistaken?” 

Ashe raised his eyebrows, somewhat confused. “Wait, what do you mean by that?” 

“Well,” She jolted up, moving around the perplexed soldier. “It’s just that you seem to be looking to match what you envision a knight should be, rather than the actual occupation, itself, correct?” 

Ashe’s confusion would not relent. “Is there really a difference?” 

She turned back to Ashe with a countenance of worry. “Yes, quite a large one, at that. You're aware that knights have to obey orders, no matter what, right?"

Ashe titled his head to the side, releasing a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” 

“If I'm not mistaken, knights are beholden to their master's will, be it a noble or king, correct?” 

He began to retort, only to stop and reflect on what Edelgard had just said. “I mean, I guess you could put it that way.”

She pressed on, her voice containing a mixture of concern and sobriety. "And if the person in charge of you, whoever that may be, tells you to do something you'd find objectionable, would you still do it?"

Ashe bounced back to his feet, and he took a defensive stance. "W-well..."

"Ashe, what is your mission for this month?"

"Well, we have to settle something down in a cemetery in Rhodos Coast, due to some scuffle breaki—" Ashe bounced back to his feet and his puzzlement began to grow ever stronger. "Wait, what does this have to do with being a knight?"

Edelgard's face became more stern and inflexible. "Do you even know what's going on down there, beyond that you're there to break something up? Did it ever come to your attention that why you're being sent there may not be for as virtuous reasons as you've been told?"

"I—wait, there's no way the church would make us do something incorrigible." His stance became defensive, his confusion replaced with outright shock at her words.

"Is that so? You said you were Lord Lonato's son, right?"

"Yes, but wha—" He then caught onto exactly where the conversation was heading, and an instinctual, visceral anger consumed Ashe in an instant. He spoke in a low, guttural growl, "Don't start making accusations about Christophe's death."

Edelgard immediately stepped back, unnerved at the sudden fury in Ashe's demeanor, and his fury quickly cooled down upon seeing her startled, leading him to blush beet red in embarrassment. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to scare you. What happened in Duscar isn't something anyone in my family likes talking about, and I guess I didn't control myself, well enough."

Edelgard shook her head ruefully, making her way back to the regretful archer as frantically swept her hand, side-to-side. "I shouldn't have pressed further, clearly I touched a sore spot for you, my apologies."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, her lilac eyes brimming with a great sincerity. “I don't mean to say any of this to deride you, but think about what you really want. Wanting to fight for justice is all well and good, but only if you know that's what you're fighting for. Can you really say that you are completely sure that you are fighting for a just cause, or is it because someone _told_ _you_ that it was?”

And just like that, Ashe was at a complete loss for words, unable to give a proper answer.

Edelgard made her way back to her pegasus, before turning her head back to Ashe. “I hope you eventually find what you're looking for, and I also hope that you keep what I said in the back of your mind, when faced with your supposed duties.”

As she flew off on her winged horse, all Ashe could do was stand there, in silent contemplation, as his classmates were busy handling yet another mess of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I will forever love the [Ashe/Hapi support for showing that he has a love for racy books, too](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/supports/Hapi/Ashe/B#event-61), it's such a great addition to his character. Granted, it's probably just raunchy knightly tales in-game, but I might as well embellish and have some fun with it. Ashe strikes me as the kind of guy who'd unironically read smut for the story. And as for Ashe's adoptive mom being the cause? I figured that since Lonato had to have gotten married at some point (because Christophe), I might as well try fleshing out his other family, a bit.
> 
> \- Hubert is great fun to write. He in particular bounces off pretty much everyone in the main cast so well.
> 
> \- One of the things I was excited about starting this project is that Ashe and Felix, in the context of Crimson Flower, have not only a lot of reason to join (which makes this so much easier to justify their actions), but it allows a lot room to analyze them, specifically (though Ingrid and Sylvain are also goldmines for that, too).
> 
> \- The reason I named Ashe's wyvern Beithir is basically because it's the only named dragon (aside from Ddraig Goch, which is boring, when translated) in Celtic/English folklore, that I could find. Since Faerghus's citizens are named after those kinds of cultures, I wanted to give Ashe's wyvern a similar name. Considering that [one translation for it is thunderbolt](https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803095456325), and since both Dimitri and Felix have an association with lightning in spin-off Fire Emblem media (i.e. [Cipher](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Dimitri/Gallery?file=B18-018SR_artwork.png)), I thought it fit.
> 
> \- So, why Rhodos Coast, the mission that takes place way *after* the Lonato stuff and at least nine months into the plot, as the Blue Lions' first mission? Because I need to give the BL house something to do, it helps with things I want to cover later, and other than the [Golden Deer's first mission](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/monastery/2#event-base-6-17), I don't think we're told about what the unpicked houses do, so I think I can fudge with the plot, without breaking anything.


	5. Calm Before the Storm

The cool morning breeze of the Harpstring Moon blew through Ashe’s windswept hair as he walked into the marketplace. As it was thankfully early in the day, the hustle and bustle of the noontime rush had not arrived yet, giving Ashe time to look around and shop. 

For the Blue Lions had a mission towards the northwestward Rhodos Coast, an area that was a fair stretch away from Garreg Mach, they needed all the supplies they could get. And due to Ashe’s history as a commoner, he brought it upon himself to try and score a few good deals, to keep costs low. 

As he was walking through the facility, he noticed a young girl with a dark, reddish-violet braid and purple markings on her face. She was none other than the princess of Brigid, Petra Macneary. That said, while she’s a student in Fodlan, she must assume the title of commoner, evidently due to some dealings with the Empire. From what Ashe knows of her via talks at the training ground, she seems extremely kind and a very skilled fighter, if her archery and sword work are any indication. 

She seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with a peddler, at least until she suddenly brandished her sword in front of her, and Ashe sprinted over to them as fast as humanly possible, shouting, “Petra! What are you doing!? Why are you fighting? Wh-what did she say? “ 

The Brigian tightened the grip on her sword. “I was asked to be coming here and do the shopping, but then this merchant gave me her challenge!” 

Ashe’s eyes bulged to enormous proportions, utterly perplexed. “Huh? This has to be a misunderstanding. Look, I'll help you. What were you trying to buy?” 

Petra sheathed he weapon as turned to Ashe. “We are... needing vulneraries. Many people make use of them and our stock is lowly, for the moment.” 

Ashe placed his hand to his mouth and thought to himself for a moment, before quickly coming up with a solution. “Got it. Just leave this to me.”

"Hello, Miss..." 

"Anna." She curtly replied, crossing her arms.

"Anna, apologies for all of that. She's not from here, there's just a huge misunderstanding."

She raised one brow and furrowed another. "That's an awfully nice way of putting it, she almost stabbed me!"

A bead of sweat broke out by his temple, but he kept himself calm. "I get that. I very much get that. However, I can promise you she meant no ill intent." He placed his hands on Petra's shoulders, whispering, "follow my lead."

He smiled to the Anna. "Come on, do you think someone like her would really want to hurt someone? Does this look like the face of someone who likes violence?" He gestured his eyes to Petra's ever-present, amicable smile. "I assure you, she means no harm, Fodlanese just isn't her first language, but she's trying."

Anna groaned to herself. "Ugh, okay. Fine, I guess I should've been more careful about what I said around a foreigner, considering some of the people I sell to. That said, vulneraries are still 280 bullions."

His gaze fixed on the seller as he started leaning in, changing his expression to one of a wanting child. “Come on, isn't that price a little high? Surely you can afford to go a bit lower.” 

The business owner hung herself over and groaned her face coated with sheer exasperation. “Are you kidding? This is even lower than my usual bargain rate.” 

Ashe raised his eyebrow and pointed towards the monastery’s walls. “Oh, really? Because the shop over by the gates is selling the same item for a little more than half that. Guess I'll have to head back there after all.” He started to make his way to the exit, gesturing Petra to join him. “Come on, Petra, let’s try and find a better deal, clearly we can’t find one here.” 

The shopkeeper shouted back to the haggler, her yells sounding noticeably panicked. “Hey! Let's all take a deep breath.” She gestured her palms in front of her, desperately trying to diffuse the situation. “Here's the deal. I'll give you...another 10 percent off. How's that?” 

Ashe smirked to himself before he swerved back around, rubbing the fingers on his right hand together. “Make it 20 percent and you've got a deal.” 

The red-haired woman looked to the side, before nodding her head, reluctantly. “Hmph. You drive a hard bargain. Ugh, fine, 20 percent.” She pointed at Ashe before taking out the medicine. “But you better be grateful!” 

The knight bowed to the supposedly generous lady. “Thank you so much.” 

Petra mimicked his awkward gesture. “I am thanking you, too.” 

As the two were packing their things, the magenta-haired woman mumbled under her breath “Yeah, I better, that's a lot of cash you're keeping from me, kid."

Once Petra had procured the vulneraries and the two had made enough space between them and the store owner, Petra placed her free hand on Ashe’s shoulder, giving off an infectious smile. “The shopping was successful. You have my gratitude, Ashe.” 

Ashe shook his head and flashed an amicable expression, as well. “Not a problem. I'm used to this sort of thing.” 

Petra’s countenance shifted to one of mild frustration. “Bargaining for prices in Fódlan is...complicated. I am thankful for this bargain. Now the extra can be given back to our professor. I had learnings about the customs of Fódlan. I have gratitude for that too.” 

Ashe shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. “Ah, I wouldn't call it a custom, exactly. It's just a trick we commoners use to save money.” 

Petra went back to giving her amiable smile. “Efficiency with money is a wonderful culture.” 

Ashe waved his hand down in front of him. “I promise you, it's really nothing special. Anyway, you were saying something about a mission, earlier?” 

The princess nodded her head. “Yes. We are having to hunt down the thieves that were attacking Professor Byleth and Lady Edelgard, last moon. What mission are you having, for this moon?” 

“Apparently there’s a group of people causing a ruckus at a sacred cemetery in Western Faerghus. I myself don’t know all of the details, but it sounds pretty serious, but I really hope it doesn’t come to blows.” His mind flashed several horrifying images of what could happen. Bloodied, gnarled corpses and screams of agony plastered his mind as his fear built.

"I really don’t want to something like that to happen.” 

“What would you like to not be happening?” Petra tilted her head, her disquiet expression piercing through him. 

Ashe immediately caught himself, loosening the tightened muscles in his face. “Oh, it’s nothing Petra, don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you have certainty?” Her worry for him was only increasing. “You look... troubled.” 

“I’m alright. Thank you th—” He was stopped by Petra’s knowing expression, making it crystal clear that his handwaves weren’t working. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “I... I just don’t want this situation to get violent. I know it’s pretty dumb to hope that it won’t, but maybe we could come to an agreement, beforehand?” 

_Of course, it was, I'm being sent on a combat mission, what kind of fool would consider otherwise? What kind of knight am I, even? I can’t even do what’s asked of me without reeling at the thought, like a coward. _

Petra flashed a warm, extraordinarily affectionate smile. “I am not thinking that is dumb. Though personally, I am not feeling as terribly. Death and life have a connection, one cannot be existing without the other, that is life’s circle.” 

Ashe stopped in place, taking in his schoolmate’s response. “I mean, I guess I can understand that.” His face tensed as his anxiety began to skyrocket. “Though I can’t say I feel that way, myself.” He looked back at Petra, worried, and began to stammer. “N-not that I mean to denounce your point, or anything, I—” 

Petra waved her hand at him, chuckling. “You are fine, Ashe. Do not have worry. By the way, are you also here to be shopping, too?” 

Ashe immediately stopped and smacked his forehead. “Sho—right, I forget I was supposed to be doing my _job_. Thanks for reminding me, Petra,.” 

“It is no problem at all. Be having the best of luck, on your mission.” She amicably waved and marched back on towards the officer’s academy, with a sack of vulneraries in hand. 

“Same to you, Petra.” As he turned away, more and more dread kept enveloping him. 

_Am I really ready for this? Am I even able to go — _

He shook his head and stopped himself before he could even finish his thoughts.

 _You have to, this is your duty. I made a promise and I’ll keep it, even if it kills me. _

Ashe began to walk back towards the marketplace, constantly having to hold in his turmoil as he did so. It’s the right thing to do, after all. Right? 

* * *

After yet another day of sweltering heat and monastery weeding, Felix was completely exhausted and drenched in his own sweat. Normally, a menial task like this, even taking into account how long it goes on for, wouldn’t provoke such levels of weariness, back in Faerghus. In Garreg Mach, where the weather is considerably warmer, it was a borderline death sentence for him. The only one that seemed to have it worse was Sylvain, at least until he started opening his mouth and started complaining, where then it was Felix who was inarguably suffering more. 

Once he’d finally ate his weight in meat, Felix marched out of the dining hall and went for the bathhouse, just wanting some damn water too cool him off.

As he made his way down the steps, he saw a young girl with nearly pure white hair and an extremely tiny frame, stuffing her face with cake like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter, she was practically oozing elation as she wolfed down her desert, while her lips were coated in rich, dark brown frosting. 

Felix made his way down the steps, slightly slipping as he continued to observe the sweet-toothed girl, alerting her to his presence. 

She whipped her head around and her face turned redder than Sylvain’s hair. “Felix!” 

The weary noble peered his head to her, his expression unchanging. “Lysithea. You look mortified.” 

Lysithea wiped off her mouth as she looked around the vicinity as if she was worrying about an attempt on her life. “How long have you been there? Were you watching me? You were, weren't you?” There was a surprising level of horror in her eyes, for such a mundane interaction. 

Felix nodded. “I was, yes.” 

She groaned and inaudibly muttered under her breath as she broke out into a cold sweat. 

He squinted his eyes, confused as to what she was saying, and began to move toward her. “Did you say something?” 

“Huh? Nope. Didn't say anything. Nothing at all.” Lysithea shook her head in an exaggerated fashion whilst her voice started to peak, her anxiety clearly rising. She hurriedly took her cake out and pushed it towards Felix. “Here.” 

“What's this for?” 

Lysithea pointed at her platter, excitedly. “I'm buying your silence...with cake. Take it, please.” 

The fatigued man could barely comprehend what was going on, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Uh... I'm not sure what to be silent about.” 

The petit girl’s motions became increasingly exaggerated and her voice much more desperate. “If people knew I was shoveling cake into my face by the fistful, they'd think of me as nothing more than a child!” 

The bewilderment he felt only grew stronger as the conversation went on, and yet Felix still felt the need to press onward. “What does that have—adults eat cake, you know.” 

Lysithea scowled and pushed the cake right in front of Felix’s face. “You'll never understand. Just take this, will you?!” 

Felix’s frustration was beginning to build with every passing moment and he pinched between his eyes in agitation. “No. I already told you, I don't like sweets! I don't care about someone eating some stupid cake, keep on doing what you're—” 

“ _Just take the dam_ —” She inhaled through her nose and exhaled with an extreme degree of frustration, appearing as though she was dangerously close to blowing up someone. “Okay, so does your refusal mean you'll be telling everyone about my cake-shoveling ways? 

Felix crossed his arms as he grew more and more impatient. “I just don't like sweets, that's all. There isn’t much more to it than that.” 

Lysithea’s face scrunched in irritation, apparently taking offense to such a lukewarm response. “Nonsense! Nobody can resist something so delicious. Look, I'm giving you this cake whether you like it or not.” She gripped one of Felix’s arms and forced the plate into his hand. “Eat it, toss it, throw it at an unsuspecting victim—I don’t care, the choice is yours. Just please don't mention this to anyone, okay, Felix?” 

Felix gazed out at the girl as she sprinted away to the dorms, so beleaguered that he resigned himself to not even bother chasing after her. “What the hell was her problem?” His line of sight made its way to the chocolatey monstrosity he was now holding. “And what am I supposed to do with this cake?” 

He then remembered Lysithea’s comment about throwing it at an unsuspecting victim and lightly smirked, thinking of the look on Sylvain or Dimitri’s face if he were to try that on them. That amusement was interrupted when he found a small, ragged little boy who barely made it up to Felix’s waist. The boy was practically drooling at the sight of the leftover cake. 

“Hey, you want this?” The student shouted at the destitute child, who frantically nodded his head, provoking Felix to walk over and hand it off to him. 

“Knock yourself out.” He tiredly remarked before taking his leave. As he did so, the kid wolfed down the cake, bearing the widest possible smile the noble had ever seen someone display. 

“Thank you so much, sir!” The boy yelled as his face was plastered with the sugary goop. 

The swordsman simply raised his hand up without looking, wearily shouting back, “Don’t mention it.” He pressed on to the dormitory steps, more than ready to sleep off this weird, weird night, not even worried about cooling off, anymore. 

* * *

The light from the rising sun continued to shine in Ashe’s face, its glare irritating his eyes. Not that any of it mattered, anyway, for he was dead set on writing before he departed for the coast, and not even the blinding sunlight was going to stop him, today. 

Since Castle Gaspard isn’t exactly in a comfortable walking distance from Garreg Mach, and since the Blue Lions probably aren’t just going to stop on by the residence during their trek up north, Ashe decided to write letters to Lonato and the rest of his family there, to let them know how they were doing, before he left for Rhodos. It’s the least he can do, to tell them about his time here, from the mock battle, to the (not so successful) wyvern riding, to the time in the greenhouse... 

_Oh, goddess, the greenhouse! _

Ashe bolted out the door, completely forgetting his hoodie and shoes, sprinting barefoot and only wearing his loungewear while he made his way to the greenhouse at as high a speed as his legs would let him. If there’s one other thing he learned from his time as a thief, besides stealth, it was to _run_. 

A shame that he didn’t learn to take into account the large drop from the first set of dorms to the second, for he promptly ate cobblestone a good story down from where he fell, nearly making his nose explode. 

Everyone in the vicinity looked positively horrified, but the tenacious boy sprang back up and wiped some of the blood outpouring from his nose, before breaking into another dash. Sure, his dignity might be a bit scarred, from that, and sure, his nose is currently the human equivalent to an active volcano, but fulfilling his duties was far more important, at the moment. He leaped over the second set of steps, nearing the conservatory at least. 

He nearly smashed to doors off their hinges as he burst into the room, crashing to the floor once again, after being met by the hard wood entrance. As he was getting up while gasping for air after that run, he heard a deafeningly loud, shrill scream from the other side of the observatory. He looked up to find Bernadetta fearing for her life, her back against the wall, panting heavily. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” She shouted, as her voice cracked and tears burst out of her eyes. “And why is your face covered in blood!? _What sort of demonic ritual were you performing_?” 

“Demo— what!?” Ashe wildly waved his hands in front of him, trying in vain to assuage her fears. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I tripped down some steps, and landed on my face. And I’m here to fill in for Dedue because he came down with some food poisoning. Apparently, something Flayn had made him was the culprit...” 

“H-how do I know you’re just making stuff up to hurt me?” Bernadetta yelped out as her whole body continued to shake. 

Ashe was about to open his mouth, until he remembered his conversation with the similarly emotionally fragile Marianne a few nights before...

 _D on’tsaysomethingstupid, __don’tsaysomethingstupid_ _,_ _DON’T SAY SOMETHING STUPID._

He looked around trying to think of something, _anything_ to change the subject and calm the skittish girl down. 

_Okay, so I know Caspar told me something about her always being in her room by herself and how she gets really scared when she’s near... That’s it!_

Ashe snapped his fingers and calmly walked backwards, slowing and quieting his speech. “Hey, if you don’t want me to scare you, I can take the front side of the greenhouse, and you can take the back, and you won’t have to get anywhere near me, and I won’t get near you unless you ask. Will that make you feel safer?” 

Bernadetta gave a nervous smile and frantically nodded her head. “Yes, please. Thank you.” 

Ashe let out a chuckling sigh as his shoulders relaxed. 

_Yes! I didn’t make things worse, this time! Thank the goddess!_

The two went about a good half an hour without a word said to each other. Occasionally, Ashe would peer over to check on Bernadetta, but only for a brief glimpse, so as not to scare her. For what it’s worth, she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit, smiling as she tended to the plants. 

When he wasn’t trying to make sure Bernadetta was okay, the underdressed student was more than happy to tend to the violets and herbs in the area, reminding him of the times back home. 

“Um...” The bundle of anxiety mousily called out as her eyes locked down, right below Ashe. “So... do you like the flowers, here?” 

Ashe’s face lit up like the sun, finally able to make for some conversation with her. “Yes, back in Castle Gaspard, my adoptive father Lonato taught me all about herbs and the like, and before that I’d often find flowers for my little sister when I could, and I guess you could say that love for plants carried over. I take it you also like them, too?” 

Bernadetta fiddled with her palms as a reluctant glee poured out of her voice. “Y-yeah, I actually really love the carnivorous plants, in the back. Oh, how I wish I could be more like them.” 

“Uh—” His mouth hung upon in a bewildered half-smile, completely losing all comprehension about what the hell she was talking about. “You wish you could be more like a carnivorous plant?” 

“Yeah!” She whimsically replied as her erratic motions changed from fearful to utter glee. “The way they can just lay around, minding their own business, and their food just comes to them, no one bothering them at all. If only I could have a life like that...” 

“Oh, okay, I think I follow you.” Ashe carefully replied. He sort of gets what she means, living life alone and just given food must be a paradise to her, even if that thinking is completely foreign to him. However, just seeing her open up, even just a little bit, made him shelve his thoughts, lest he say something that distresses her and disturbs her peace, for the time being. “I take it that’s why you’re working in the greenhouse, then?” 

“Mm-hm!” She enthusiastically pumped her fists. “Helps that that Dedue guy doesn’t like to talk much. Oh, what bliss this job really is.” 

The ecstasy that coated her face was intensely appreciable. It was so rare to see her exhibit anything other than extreme terror that sights such as this were a welcome surprise, no matter how... surreal they may be, out of context. 

Once she finished gushing about plants however, her instinctual fear was brought back to the forefront. “That doesn’t sound really weird, right? I’m not annoying you by talking about this?” Before Ashe could even get a word in, panicked mumbles erupted from Bernadetta at lightspeed. “Oh goddess, I’m being annoying. I’m being annoying and weird and talking about my stupid plants, and I’m just going to make him upset with me, and—” 

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, you aren’t being a problem at all!” Ashe frantically bolted up and restarted his high-speed hand gestures. “I actually found your talks about plants quite intriguing, actually.” 

She frenziedly shook her head as her eyes wettened. “No, you’re just saying that so I don’t get upset. I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll just be going back to work...” Bernadetta then fled to the back of the greenhouse once more, on the verge of a breakdown and not saying anything for the last few hours they were working together. 

During that whole time, Ashe couldn’t help feel an overwhelming amount of guilt. Even when he did something right, something else had to go horribly wrong. 

Once their shift had ended and the next wave of preservation volunteers made their way inside, Bernadetta dashed out without a second thought, but not before handing Ashe a leaf with some hastily-written ink, on it. 

_Thank you for putting up with me that whole time, I know I can be a bit of a hassle for people, and I really appreciate you trying to be nice to me, Ashe. It was nice being able to talk to you about the flowers, even if I kind of ruined it, at the end, there._

_Bernadetta_ _—_

Immediately, an enormous smile broke out on Ashe's face upon reading that. Unlike before, he could actually hold a conversation with someone so delicate and not make things worse. It's not much, but it's still progress! He made his way over to the sauna to get himself cleaned off, beaming the brightest he had in days.

* * *

“So, you _will_ have a duel with me?” An all-too eager, pompous voice echoed. 

“No, I—ugh.” Edelgard groaned and covered her face with her palm, her voice strained from immense exasperation. “I was just talking to myself. Look, if you’re so eager to prove what a superior noble you are, why not challenge Caspar, or Dimitri, or literally anyone else other than me? Can’t you see that I don’t care about proving myself to you?” 

“Yes, but how will the others be aware of who is truly the better noble?” The overbearing man whined as he brushed his fingers through his well-kempt orange hair. “It is our duty to show our capabilities to the public. Otherwise, what is the point of there being nobility at all?” 

“Maybe this will change your mind.” She marched toward the overly grandiose nobleman, her brows furiously slanted and her steps heavy. “I. Don't. Care. About. Proving. My. Nobility. To you. Or to anyone, for that matter. This needs to end, Ferdinand.” 

During the evening before setting out to Rhodos Coast, Felix spent his free time preparing himself for the battle ahead, eager to finally see some action in this godforsaken school year. The swathes of people swarming the training grounds made the matter more cumbersome than it should. Things only got worse when that self-aggrandizing noble, Ferdinand von Aegir, set his sights on Edelgard. 

If you were to look up the word, “tool,” in the dictionary, his mug would be plastered right beside it. He constantly squawks about nobility this and the Aegir family that, and it makes him borderline insufferable. Just overhearing the conversation from a fair distance away is enough to irritate Felix. That frustration Edelgard was feeling was something the lone warrior was far too familiar with. If it wasn’t Sylvain continuing to make his days that much worse, it was Dorothea feeling entitled to his time and pestering him constantly. In a way, Ferdinand seemed to be doing the same thing for Edelgard

“But Ede—” Ferdinand protested, his tone shaking. 

“But Edelgard nothing.” She stood on her toes up to meet his gaze, giving him an eyeful of her aggravated scowl. “I have tried very hard to be patient, but you keep testing me! Enough with pestering me so incessantly, will you?’ 

“Seriously, learn to take a hint.” Felix annoyedly snarled as he sheathed his blade, as fed up as the princess was. “Nobody cares about your damn ego.” 

“Excuse you, this is a matter of nobility, no some sense of ego, Felix.” Ferdinand spat back, crossing his arms, as his voice became defensive. “And all I was doing was simply asking that we take part in a duel.” 

“Yeah, over and over again.” Edelgard muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. 

“‘A matter of nobility,’ what a load of bunk.” Felix moved on over to the two Black Eagles, glaring at the orange-haired menace with pure venom. “Nobility means nothing. You don’t win battles, just because you were born to some random noble, you win by being a better fighter, as simple as that.” 

As Felix pressed on, Edelgard began to self-satisfyingly grin, while Ferdinand moved forward to the angry aristocrat, his posture tensed. “Yes, you must be a better fighter to win, but how can the nobility be respected without showing that they deserve their status?” 

“Nobility don’t deserve their status, you idiot. They were born into it; they didn’t do anything else.” 

“And what makes you so sure that none of the three of us deserve our status?” Ferdinand’s face grew more and more agitated as the conversation pressed on, and his tone accusatory. “I’ll have you know that I worked quite hard to earn my position, myself. 

The two men were finally close up out each other with equally fierce scowls. “Because almost every noble I’ve ever met is pompous and can’t fend for themselves, but view themselves as so much more, attributing it to their bloodline. I got where I am because I persevered and got stronger, fighting many opponents stronger than you, not because I was birthed into the Fraldarius bloodline. I can at least say that I’ve earned where I am today, can you or any other damned noble here say the same?” 

Ferdinand chuckled to himself, turning away from the other two. “Is that so? Well then, how about we put that bluster to the test?” He made his way to the center of the training ground, before raising his blade in Felix’s direction. “I challenge you, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, to a duel. One-on-one, just us and our weapons. Does that sound to your liking?” 

Edelgard placed her hand on Felix’s shoulder and gave him a weary glance, whispering him with a tone of dread. "Please don’t, you'll only indulge him by accepting.” 

Felix brushed off her hand and slowly walked up to the facility’s center. “You seem to be speaking my language. All right. Hell, I’ll beat you without even needing to utilize my crest.” He unsheathed his sword, pointing it back at Ferdinand. “And if I win, you have to shut your mouth about proving your nobility and whatever other nonsense.” 

Ferdinand met his words with a cocky smirk. “All right, and if I win, you must retract your claims about me and concede that nobility has its place.” 

Felix grinned and cocked an eyebrow as he squatted in a fighting stance. “You’re assuming you’ll even lay a scratch on me.” 

Ferdinand met Felix’s fighting stance with his own, along with defiantly beaming at him. “All in due time, Felix.” 

Before the duel could commence, Edelgard walked in between the two fighters, frowning at Ferdinand. “Ferdinand, you know we have a mission at the end of the week.” Her gaze shifted to Felix, looking almost disappointed in him. “And you, don’t you have to leave for Rhodos Coast, tomorrow morning?” 

Felix scoffed and squatted in a battle stance. “Please, he won’t last more than a minute, if that. And I’ll make sure I don’t break him too badly, Princess.” 

Ferdinand gave off an incredibly sassy expression as he took on a fighting stance of his own. “Hmph. I think what he _actually_ means is that _I’ll_ finish _him_ off before he gets the chance to do any harm.” His prideful eyes darted at the Adrestian princess. “There’s no need to worry, Edelgard, I shall make sure his wounds aren’t too serious.” The look on his face was just so arrogant and punchable, Felix was practically frothing at the mouth to wipe that grin off his face, and put this imbecile in his place, once and for all. 

Edelgard sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, before making her exit in an exasperated huff. “I don’t know why I even bother. Neither of you two will listen to me, it seems.” 

Once she left, the two pounced at one another, weapons clashing with great force. In short time, Felix overpowered Ferdinand’s lance in their blade lock. 

**_Heh, this guy is way out of his depth_** ** _._ **

He swiped Ferdinand’s lance away and prepared to finish him off in one strike, but the hotheaded noble swiftly weaved under the blade and shone an orangish-brown aura, striking Felix’s shoulder from below with his knuckles, pushing him backwards 

Felix tried to get his bearings, but when he tried to move, he noticed his arm was covered in a bizarre, earthy substance, locking his arm in place. Ferdinand seized the opportunity and unleashed a ferocious onslaught, slicing his foe’s flesh again and again. In order to avoid more punishment, Felix leapt backwards and tried to compose himself, while Ferdinand flashed an insufferably haughty smirk. 

That grin was enough to incite Felix to go back on the offense, swinging as violently and precisely as he could, while Ferdinand smugly evaded each and every one. Despite Felix’s superior speed and power, his hits just wouldn’t connect. The proud fighter mixed up his slashes with devastating punches and spinning kicks, to no avail, as the obnoxious noble smashed the back of his lance’s handle into Felix’s ribs. 

Felix stumbled backwards, gripping his stomach and gritting his teeth as a slight bit of drool shot out of his mouth. 

Ferdinand ran his fingers through his bright, wavy locks whilst his confidence began to outpour, even more. “What was that about not landing a scratch on you?” 

As his blood began to reach its boiling point, Felix sprinted towards Ferdinand, pulling his sword back as his opponent prepped for another dodge. Once he got decently close, Felix hurled his weapon, which Ferdinand deftly leaned his whole body under. The duelist threw in more physical strikes, in frustration, as his foe kept on dodging, like it was nothing. Ferdinand briefly began to rear up his crest, once more, reeling his lance back and vainly spinning it around, completely sure of himself. 

Using that instant of showboating to his advantage, Felix soared forward and put all of his weight in one singular boot to Ferdinand’s skull, turning him into a dazed, stumbling mess, as he desperately tried to regain balance. 

With that, Felix initiated a relentless blitz on the carrot-topped noble, hammering his stomach with a barrage of roundhouses, hacking away at his face with several powerful hooks, before slamming Ferdinand to the earth with an enormous haymaker, backed with his whole body. 

He revved his leg above his head, preparing to finish Ferdinand off with an axe kick, but the latter used that brief moment to tear into his calf with his pike, throwing Felix off balance and onto the floor. They both forced themselves up, each giving strained smiles to one another, and made it to their now barely stable feet. 

They laughed as they found their wobbly footing and braced themselves once more, ready to finish the other off. 

“Ferdinand, that’s enough!” A voice shouted from the grounds’ entrance. 

The duo turned to spot Edelgard standing along with Byleth at the front door, the latter holding her elbows and having the appearance of subdued annoyance. 

“But teacher, I—” Ferdinand tried to protest as his pitch heightened in fear. 

The professor squinted her eyes in slight pique. “But nothing. You already know we have a mission at the end of the week, I don’t want to risk any of you getting hurt.” She transferred her gaze to Felix’s direction. “Felix, this is the second time this month that I heard you’ve picked a fight with one of my students, so close to this moon’s task. If you want to fight, at least wait until that’s ended, alright?” 

“Hey, don’t pin this on me, I didn’t start it, this time.” The aggressive soldier pointed directly at Ferdinand, accusatorily. “And even if I did, he deserved it, anyway” 

She caught sight of Felix’s ripped-up calf. “Ferdinand, what did you do to—ugh!” 

To Felix, Byleth’s mannerisms seemed quite surreal to witness, simultaneously expressive and woodenly stiff, as if she was being inhibited, in some way. There was clear aggravation in her eyes and words, but her voice and movements were almost completely flat and lifeless. 

The boisterous spearman glued his eyes to the ground while receiving his tongue lashing, his cheeks as red as Edelgard’s blouse. “I... understand, professor.” 

As Ferdinand sulked on his way to the exit, Felix shouted out to him. “Hey, you. You really annoyed me, dodging all of my attacks and wailing on me, like that.” 

Ferdinand whipped his head around as he nearly burst with glee, "I’m glad to see you were impressed by my talents. For what it’s worth, you were quite the capable opponent, I’d expect no less from a fellow noble.” 

And just like that, Felix’s revulsion returned as he wiped his palm down his face. “You insufferable... whatever. When our missions are over, we’re having a rematch, got it?” 

Edelgard cringed and sighed as her classmate excitedly beamed, placing his hand over his heart. “You have my word that we shall meet on the battlefield again. And next time, I will make you use your dreaded crest, mark my words.” 

Felix scoffed as a slight smile managed to sneak up on him. “Heh, don’t get ahead of yourself there, I was just unprepared, this time, that’s all. You’re not going to get the jump on me again, you can bet on that.” 

Ferdinand let out an amused chuckle, turning back to the exit and waving his arm behind him. “I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong next time, Felix.” 

The overly jovial peer left the facility with an enormous grin on his face, while Byleth made her way to Felix. “I appreciate that you were trying to help out Edelgard, but could you please not do that by picking a fight?” 

The swordsman’s demeaner returned back to pure stoicism. “Hey, I got him to stop, didn’t I?” Felix crossed his arms, annoyedly. “And like I said before, _he_ challenged _me_.” 

“That doesn’t...” The mercenary’s intent once again clashed with her passionless mannerisms, sounding strained and awkward. “Look, kid. Next time a student of mine is starting some crap, just... tell me instead, would ya?” 

He deeply sighed in aggravation, knowing full well he has no chance of winning against her, be it an argument or duel, to his chagrin. “Fine, I guess I’ll go to you the next time something happens, though, just to make things clear, I _am_ having that duel, when I get back.” 

She lightly nodded and formed a miniature smile. “Thank you, and you can, so long as you don’t get each other seriously hurt, which you almost did tonight, understood?” 

“I’ll... try.” Felix snarked, keeping his eyes away from hers, which were now slanted in peevishness. “Look, I’ll do my best not to, but if something happens to him...” 

“I’ll take it up with Rhea.” 

Those words alone struck fear in Felix’s heart. He’ll take on a good challenge any day of the week, but getting on the church’s bad side is suicide. “All right, I’ll make sure both of us make it out fine enough.” 

“Thanks, Felix.” She turned over to her now greatly amused student. “Same goes to you, for calling me over, Edelgard.” 

Edelgard’s face bore quite a degree of pride, for simple praise. “Of, course, my teacher.” 

“Now that this whole mess is done, Felix, I have to take you to get that leg of yours checked out.” Byleth pointed down at bleeding mess where a chunk of his calf was. 

“Oh, come on, this is NOTH—” Now that the adrenaline had worn down, even one step forward hurt like absolute hell. “—ING. I can handle it, just fine.” 

The merc tilted her head to the side and slanted her eyes once more, not buying what he was selling for a second, and put her arm around his back. “Edelgard, come on, let’s get him over to Manuela before he gets worse.” 

Edelgard shook her head back and forth and marched towards Felix, before helping Byleth drag the injured man off and away from the training grounds. 

“Look, I said I was fine! Lay off, I don’t need you two carrying me!” Felix growled. “I can take care of myself!” 

The two women looked toward each other and quietly chuckled, before Edelgard brassily shot back at him, “You don’t need to keep up the strong man act, Felix, getting you help isn’t going to do any damage to your image, you now.” 

“I don’t give a damn about my image, I just can manage to get my own leg checked out.” 

Byleth proceeded to playfully mess with Felix’s well-tied-up hair, betraying her ever-stoic appearance, to his everlasting displeasure. “I’m sure you can, tough guy, but that’s not stopping either of us, sorry.” 

Felix let out a groan so loud the people of Sreng could hear it and continued to raucously protest as he was dragged halfway across the campus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I love Bernadetta to pieces by my god, is she terrifying to write for. It's so easy to accidentally exaggerate her paranoia and anxiety, and I can only pray that I didn't mess that up, too bad.
> 
> \- For as much crap as I'm giving him, Ferdinand is wonderful, but considering I'm using *Felix and Edelgard* as my means of introducing him, I don't have much in the way of portraying him super positively until the end of his section. As for his crest, I kind of had to make up a reason why his crest can immobilize people, and since [Cichol's crest is earth-based](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Crest#Crests_of_the_Four_Saints), magical rock spawns on the limbs and joints was the thing I landed on, for the moment. Some crests are easy to work with for their in-game abilities and elements, this was not one of them
> 
> \- Now as for Byleth, she's a bit tricky to write, because I effectively have to make a character that's learning how to properly emote, and that can get pretty tough to do. That said, considering Alois thinks she talks a lot like Jeralt (some... how), I think I have a way I want to approach it, but that's something I'll hopefully get to when she becomes a bigger focus.


	6. A Tumultuous Trek

As the morning sun stretched across Garreg Mach, Felix was taking a leisurely stroll to the monastery’s entrance, not giving a care in the world how late he was. Not after what had happened to his leg. 

**_They can all wait; I’m not pushing this leg further than I need to. The less I strain it now, the more I can fight, later._ **

Whilst reaching the pier by the cafeteria, Felix managed to find one of his very few weaknesses: an adorable tomcat, lying down as he feasted on a tiny fish. 

**_Eh, what the hell. I’m probably already late, what’s the harm in spending a few minutes with this little guy? So long as no one I my class sees me, I think they’ll live._ **

He looked around to see anyone behind him, just in case, and walked over to the feline once he felt the coast was clear. Felix knelt down and gently brushed his finger under the cat’s nape, before it moved forward and rubbed its head against his arm. Felix sported a smile that he’d sooner die than let another human see, and started gingerly petting the cat’s back with his palm. The kitten quietly purred, much to Felix’s delight. 

“Felix?” A woman’s voice called out from right behind him, startling the man and his feline friend. 

He turned his head to find Edelgard standing beside the shed near the docks with deep, dark bags underneath her eyes. 

The cat loudly meowed and bolted away from Felix before he could even try to hold on to it, and fled past Edelgard in a panic. 

“No, don’t—ugh.” He angled his eyes up to Edelgard and scowled. “Thank you, for scaring him away. It was really appreciated.” 

“My apologies...” She rubbed her arm guiltily. “I just didn’t expect to see you, of all people, petting a cat.” 

The cat person quickly rose to his feet as his agitation began to rise. “Is there something wrong with that? I was just minding my own business, until you came along. What does it matter, that I was just petting a cat, that’s none of your or anyone’s—” 

“I just meant that you didn’t seem like the type. I mean no judgment by that, Felix.” 

He squinted his eyes, noticing her slightly teetering back and forth. “What happened to you? You look terrible.” 

She immediately widened her eyes and furrowed her brow. “Well, aren’t you quite rude. I simply couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to see the sunshine, since I was already up.” Edelgard glanced down at Felix’s leg. “Are you feeling better?” 

“I was just fine before that, first off.” He crossed his arms defensively and shook his right leg in front of him. “And yes, I’m feeling better, since you’ve asked. As long as I don’t do anything to disturb it too much, it’ll heal quick enough.” 

“I’m glad to hear it Felix.” She flashed a small, weary smile at him. “It’d be a shame for someone of your skill to end up seriously harmed.” 

A familiar feeling of anger spiked in Felix. “Oh, great, this again. I already told Hubert, I’m not changing courses, end of discussion.” 

“I—excuse me?” Edelgard began to shift from tired kindness to an air of bewilderment. “When did Hubert ask you to join our class? I never suggested anything of the sort, to him.” 

Felix’s eyebrows raised as confusion had started to set in. “Wait, you weren’t just buttering me up?” He birthed a miniature grin and softly laughed to himself. “Hmph, that’s refreshing, I would’ve thought your lackey was just carrying out orders like some mindless dog.” 

“Well, Hubert is nothing, if not dedicated, I’ll still need to talk to him about bothering you, though.” She walked over to Felix, having seemingly warded off her exhaustion. “I take it you weren’t exactly pleased at his offer, then?” 

The noble faintly growled as disgust plastered his face. “That fool kept lecturing me that I was beholden to my duty like those idiot knights, as if he knows a damn thing about me.” Felix tightly balled his fists, even the thought of what that snake had dared to vomit up made him fume. “He has no business telling me what I’m doing and why, I can get stronger without his input.” 

“You’ve got your heart set on your own goals, it seems.” She held her elbows as she carried herself with her typical sternness. “You could say I’m the same way, in that regard. Though, and let me make it clear that I’m not asking for your recruitment, but the way you talked about the nobility last night showed a very clear contempt for them. Do you think you could get along without them?” 

“Easily.” 

“Then would you say that you’d be much happier carving your own path than conforming to Faerghus?” 

Felix clenched his forehead as a familiar weariness plagued his thoughts. “How did I not see this com—all right, I’d be happier fighting for myself, that much I’ve made obvious.” He tightened his form even further and approached the small princess. “But I don’t need people telling me how to fight. I choose to do this, no one else is making me, and don’t try to spin it as something that I’m being forced to do, like your lackey did.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not. If this is the path you feel you’re meant to walk, then more power to you.” She crossed over to him, with her hands behind her back. “I’m just giving you some food for thought. Your life is your own decision, I’m not here to make your mind up for you.” 

Felix’s posture loosened up and he finally managed to cool down. “Good. At least somebody around here gets _that_. Anyway, I have to get going, Seteth’ll probably set on fire, if I keep him waiting.” He made his way past her, but stopped right before he turned. “And for what it’s worth, I can at least somewhat respect you, too.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She gently smiled back at him, her voice tinged with a slight degree of snark. “By the way, my teacher told me that Jeralt was to accompany you on your mission, and knowing what I do of you, it might be best not to leave him idling by.” 

He deeply inhaled and cringed to himself, covering his eyes with his hand. “Of course, he’d show up on the mission that I’m already late to, why would it be anything else?” The lone wolf marched on and held his hand by his head, in a semi-waving gesture towards Edelgard. 

* * *

Once he’d finally made it to the front of the monastery, Felix encountered his swathe of classmates, along with the likes of Hanneman, Seteth, Jeralt, and for some reason, Seteth’s little sister, Flayn. You’d think that someone as overprotective as Seteth would keep his sister off the front lines, but apparently, he isn’t so anxious to literally throw her at a mob of enemies. 

Flayn didn’t look a day over fourteen, but supposedly she was seventeen, apparently. It seems that she either never grew up or just looks really young for her age. Regardless, she looks even more vulnerable than Lysithea, but at least from what he knows of the latter, Lysithea is quite magically gifted and more than able to back up her boasts of strength. In comparison, the green-haired little girl just doesn’t seem all that capable, especially since Seteth is so overprotective of her. 

Seteth, meanwhile, at least looked somewhat apt for the situation, his frame was tall and while he looked a bit slender, his clothes were loose enough around the arms that it could be surmised that he has a decent bit of muscle, and the blood red wyvern, along with the glowing blessed lance, certainly helped. 

Ingrid had her arms folded and kept tapping her foot, while Sylvain was busy _attempting_ to chat up Mercedes, who was having none of what he was saying. Annette was as chipper as ever, despite looking even more dead tired than Edelgard did, whilst Dedue remained unflappable, as usual. Ashe and Dimitri, on the other hand, looked like a bizarre mixture of excitement and morbidly anxious. 

Now, for Ashe, that made enough sense to Felix, he hates fighting but is the definition of a knight worshipper, so Jeralt being there is a dream come true, but seeing the boar pretend to worried about a fight disgusted Felix to his very core, and he only glared at Dimitri, after meeting up with his class. 

**_Don’t give me that worried look. You love to cull and you know it. Quit pretending that this bothers you, Dimitri. At least if you show it, I’d respect you for having the guts to not hide it._ **

Seteth was predictably about to blow his top, to the point that there were veins popping out of his forehead and the rest of his face was an intensely bright red, contrasting with his usual stern temperament. “ _What took you so long_?” He spat, as his voice seethed with rage. 

All Felix did in response was lift up the pant leg on his right ankle, showing the bandages on it. “Mishap in practice, yesterday. I was told that I shouldn’t stress it, lest I want to mess it up even further. You wouldn’t want me out of commission once we reach Rhodos, would you?” 

The religious aide sharply exhaled in a furious breath. “ _You hurt yourself while_ —” He breathed in once more, in an attempt to keep his cool. “No matter. You’re here and now we can finally get going. Since you evidently can’t move fast enough on your injured foot, you’ll have to accompany Jeralt on his horse.” 

A wave of dread washed over Felix as he realized he put himself into a corner. For someone as powerful as the Blade Breaker, himself, to see him as injured and helpless, would be ungodly embarrassing for him. “No, I can manage, I’ll just have to hurry up on my own.” 

“Come on, kid, I’ve got an open seat, right here!” Jeralt teasingly grinned atop his steed as he slapped its back. “No need to put more pressure on your foot, I can give you a ride. You know, if you can’t take it.” He continued to smirk in Felix’s direction as most of the rest of the class tried to cover the amusement that was written on their faces. 

“No, I can walk on my foot just fi—” Felix protested before being bear-hugged and lifted into the air by Sylvain. 

“All right, little guy, let’s get you up in your seat. You can play tough later.” The red-haired nuisance mockingly laughed as he dragged his supposed friend up to the horse. 

“Sylvain, I swear to the goddess, _if you don’t put me down RIGHT NOW_!” Felix screamed as he kept on kicking and trying to force himself out of Sylvain’s surprisingly strong grip. “Get your hands off of me or I’ll kick your—” 

Once Sylvain managed to make it close enough to Jeralt, he threw Felix onto the horse, flat on his stomach, whilst the former slapped his hands up and down, as a gesture of fake bragging. 

“Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be fine, kid.” The Breaking Blade chuckled as he playfully rubbed his hand against Felix’s hair, as the latter groaned in chagrin. 

**_The universe can’t just leave me alone for one damn day, can it?_ **

Even Ashe couldn’t help but giggle at his classmate’s expense as he floundered, trying to seem strong and resistant to pain, especially with the likes of Jeralt poking fun whenever he could. 

“Now that everyone is _finally_ here, we can make our way to the cemetery with no further delay.” Seteth annoyedly exhaled once more and took off to the skies on his wyvern. “Since we lost some time waiting for Felix...” He glared down at the swordsman with aggrievance, before continuing on. “...We’ll need to pick up the pace a little bit to make up for that. We must reach the coast within the next three days, understood?” 

Everyone in the Blue Lions nodded, although Ashe did so with a lot of hesitation in his heart, his face contorted in deep discomfort. 

The Blue Lion house marched off towards the northeast of Garreg Mach Monastery, where Felix’s lateness would become the least of their troubles, as time went on. 

* * *

The group had been traveling for several days and Felix was already dreadfully uncomfortable. It’s bad enough that he has to essentially be babied by Jeralt because of his foot, but unlike say, Sylvain, Ingrid, or Dimitri, Felix had next to no experience with a horse, meaning that he had to feel the discomfort of a first-timer on a horse for hours upon hours, for the trek. 

So, needless to say, once the group had finally made it to their stopping point just beyond the Rhodos Coast, the loner noble was more than a little ecstatic to finally stop playing equestrian for the day. Once he landed on his feet, it became all sorts of agonizing to try and walk, for the ride had made his thighs and behind thoroughly sore, and somehow every step hurt more than when he’d initially got his leg cleaved. 

“Having fun there, Felix?” Sylvain gleefully mugged at him as Felix was very clearly struggling to walk. 

It was bad enough that he was aching all over, but Sylvain wouldn’t close his mouth during the entire ride, and Felix had lost most, if not all patience with him, by that point. “Just shut the hell up, already.” He coarsely growled, baring his clenched teeth. 

That, of course, didn’t deter Sylvain, for he kept smiling as he formed his hands into a heart shape right on top of his chest, winking back at his fellow noble, incensing him even more. 

“For once, just once, can you just stop being you, for even a little bit?” 

Still beaming, Sylvain mirthfully shook his head as he leaned in towards Felix with an atrocious, artificial pain plastered on his face. “Come on, Felix, you know I like to just fool around with you.” 

“Far too often, if you ask me.” 

Before the two could start another routine bickering session, Sylvain turned his gaze over to Ashe, who was even more apprehensive than he already was on the trip, and he’s already a serious kid as is. 

“Hey, Ashe.” The flirt leisurely stepped over to him. “Are you holding up alright?” He asked, as if he somehow didn’t already know the answer. 

“Oh, Sylvain, I-I’m...” Ashe was immediately flustered, taken out of his thoughts of dread. “...I’m... fine, thank you.” 

Sylvain quickly raised an eyebrow and placed his hand on his jittery classmate’s shoulder. "Yeah, sure you are. Hey, I noticed you were helping lead us a good chunk of the way there. You live around here?” 

A tiny hint of a smile broke out of Ashe’s otherwise petrified face. “Yes, actually. We passed by it briefly about a day back, but Gaspard territory is quite close by. We _do_ live near Rowe territory, after all.” 

“Ah, so you’re pretty close to home, eh? You thinking of maybe stopping by?” Sylvain affectionately beamed, feeling he locked Ashe down. 

“That sounds nice, but I don’t think that’s allowed...” He angled his eyes to the ground in worry. “Besides, I’m not sure I can face Lonato in this state. He wouldn’t want to see me so nervous about doing what a knight, I imagine.” 

The handsome giant cheekily put his arm around Ashe’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s your first time doing this stuff, I’m sure he’d understand.” 

“About th—” He attempted to correct the philanderer’s statement, but was quickly interrupted. 

“So, you’ve brought up Lonato before, but I don’t think you’ve talked much about your other family. Care to clue me in?” 

Just beyond the two of them, Felix saw Jeralt sport a confused, but no less pleased expression on his face, crossing his arms whilst still keeping his face looking slightly agreeable look on his face. 

“Oh—well...” The timidity in the archer’s heart began to soften, if just a little. “Well, I think I mentioned this before, but I also have a brother and sister, Colin and Shauna.” 

“So, is this Shauna of yours a cutie?” Sylvain asked, ribbing Ashe. 

Now, everybody else was already about to yell at Sylvain for being a reckless flirt again, but Ashe, being already stressed as it is... had different plans. 

He gripped Sylvain’s collar and pulled him down to eye level and gave a ferocious, _murderous_ scowl and released an enraged growl. “She’s fourteen. And _she’s. My. Sister_.” 

Sylvain’s breath got heavy and panicked, and he raised his hands by his face as he nervously laughed. “Hey, I was just trying to make some friendly conversation I wasn’t actually—” And he stopped talking immediately as Ashe’s glare grew ever more terrifying. 

Everyone around them completely stopped and held their mouths agape, stepping back from the two. Even Felix was unnerved by this sudden display of outrage. The absolute last person anyone expected to nearly get violent is Ashe, and he had given everyone a scare that would chill even the goddess to the bone. There are precious few things that could seriously drive Ashe to fury, and someone risking the safety of a family member was one of them. 

He loosened his grip and turned away, ashamed of himself, his eyes covered by his grey hair. “I’m... sorry, I lost control a bit, there.” 

Sylvain gulped and nervously chuckled. “H-hey, no worries! I clearly touched a sore spot, there.” 

Ashe couldn’t even muster a comment to assuage Sylvain’s worries, simply standing there awkwardly and unable to look at anyone. 

Jeralt held his fist up to his mouth and cleared his throat, readier than ever to diffuse the tension. “Ooookay, so now that we made it to our site for the night, we’re going to need more firewood. Your Highness, you’ll be taking Mr. Smoothtalker’s place for helping cut down the trees with Ashe and Dedue, you think you can handle that?” 

“Of course.” He instantly responded, looking over at his childhood friend as he seemed like he was about to relieve himself at any moment. 

The middle-aged merc extended his finger out to the other two men of Faerghus. “All right, then that means you two boys are with me on tent duty. And Sylvain, you and I are going to have a few words, got it?” 

The nightmare to women everywhere flushed to a shade of white that makes even Ashe look tan by comparison, an accomplishment in and of itself. 

“All right, let's get this shit done, we’ve only got about two hours before the sun sets, and I don’t feel like searching through the dark for some damn firewood.” 

* * *

Thanks in part to Dimitri just plain ripping a tree off its stump and ripping it up with his lance, the trio was able to finish their woodcutting job in less than half an hour. Even after cutting enough pieces, he still took the rest of the tree with him and lugged it over his shoulder with one arm, just in case. If Ashe weren’t mentally preoccupied, he’d be in either awe or terror, but he could barely even emotionally respond, at the moment. For every second that they spent getting closer to the coast, his anxiety kept rising and rising, higher and higher. It was hell on earth, imagining what could happen, any sense of hope that a fight wouldn’t break out quickly faded not even a day into the trip, what with Seteth’s rage being visible for all to see, and combine that with the weapon he was wielding... 

“Ashe, it’s time we head back.” Dedue said as he placed his monolithic hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

Ashe nearly leapt into the air in surprise, for he’d been lost in his thoughts for quite some time. “Oh, right, I’m coming.” 

Dedue’s normally taciturn face faded into one of noticeable fret. “You seem to be agitated, these last few days, are you not feeling well?” 

“I’m fine, Dedue, really.” He lied to the giant before him, trying his hardest to keep his negative emotions inside. It was obvious that he couldn’t hide it to save his life, of course, but he still needed to try his best to put on a brave face. Goddess knows that’s all he _can_ do, right now. 

“That doesn’t seem right, to me.” Dedue calmly retorted, his concern indefatigable. “You’ve been stressed for the past few days. Do you think you’ll be—” 

“I have to be ready.” Ashe blurted out, his voice both determined and anguished, as his eyes began to water slightly. “I can’t let my family down, so even if I may hate some of the steps to get where I want to be, I have to just take it, for now.” 

He started to move away from Dedue, desperate to end the conversation, before turning back to say one more thing to him. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Dedue, thank you.” 

Ashe made his way back to the site with logs in hand and a heart heavier than Raphael after an eating session, only to find more strife headed his way, or rather, towards his house’s way, whilst Dedue and Dimitri followed closely behind. 

“Go find a husband.” Felix coarsely spat out, scrunching up his nose while his eyebrows creased. 

“Excuse me?” Ingrid darkly croaked, gripping her lance as her eyes widened in a white hot fury. 

“You heard me.” He coolly shot back, standing firm, as still as possible, whilst Ingrid was visibly shaking. 

Annette and Mercedes held their mouths agape at what they were watching, with an added layer of revulsion on the former's face. Ashe and Dimitri looked at each other with equally bulged eyeballs and sweat on their foreheads, knowing and dreading what was about to happen. 

While the other boys left to chop some wood, and the other adults were gone for various reasons, Felix and Ingrid had gotten at it over what initially started as the warrior noting some fairytale the lady knight had been reading beforehand, which quickly turned into a full-scale feud between the two over knights and duty... again. Suffice it to say, Felix took umbrage with her joy over knights, as he tends to do, and then it turned into Felix hitting below the belt, to prove a point. 

The lady knight huffed in deep as she tried to keep her fracturing collectedness. “I know you hate the ideals of chivalry and pride. So much so, you prefer to escape your duty as your family's heir. You have no right to criticize me for my ideals.” 

Felix scoffed and crisscrossed his arms in his typical obstinate fashion. "Perhaps not. At least I know not to heedlessly obey orders. I know not to romanticize blind obedience. My brother taught me to think for myself.” 

Ingrid clenched her teeth with a visceral wrath. “Don't you dare bring Glenn into this!” 

Ashe sprinted in as fast as possible and interjected himself in between the two, holding up both his hands while facing Ingrid. “H-h-hey! Let’s all get along here, I’m sure Felix didn’t mean what he—”

“Oh, I meant it, all right.” 

“ _FELIX, YOU AREN’T HELPING!_ ” 

"Ashe, I appreciate you trying to help, but I can handle _him_ , myself.” She growled as she started to grip her lance so hard her knuckles whitened. 

“Oh, please. Do you seriously think that _you_ could hurt me? That's a laugh riot.” He snarked at his supposed best friend. 

Ingrid gave a quick burst of fuming laughter before indignantly emitting yet another furious breath as she pushed forward once more, nearly knocking Ashe over. “Try saying that again after I _shove my—”_

Dimitri rushed towards the other three and faced towards Felix, with both his arms outstretched to each side. “Felix, that’s enough, leave her alone.” 

“I don’t recall asking you to butt in, boar.” Felix growled in annoyance. 

“I don’t recall asking you for your permission to join in.” The prince shot back. 

And if things couldn’t get more tenuous, Sylvain found it prudent to also join in the festivities. “Come on, everyone, let’s all get along." He strode in with his arms held out in front of each side of his body, his voice unshakably calm and amiable. “We don’t need to get at each other's—” 

“Sylvain, mind your own business!” The two bickerers shouted to him, both of them getting more tense by the second. 

“Hey, what the hell is going on, over here?” Jeralt bellowed as he entered the fray, shrouded in confusion and annoyance. “What, I leave to take a piss for all of a couple minutes and already you guys are at each other's—” He took one look in Felix’s direction and groaned. “Ah, let me guess, it’s this brat’s fault, isn’t it?” 

“I—” Felix started to protest, before seeing Ingrid, Annette, and Mercedes simultaneously nod, while Ashe and Dimitri kept their eyes as far away from Jeralt’s as possible. “All I said was that I didn’t feel Ingrid over here shouldn't heed so much to knighthood, and she wigged out on me.” 

“Oh, aren’t you forgetting something Felix?” Ingrid scowled while raising her voice to deafening levels. “Like how you told me to, ‘go find a husband,’ or how you used my fiancé to deride me? Don’t act like you were just handing out good criticism!” 

“Why am I not...” The Blade Breaker wiped his hand down his face, stretching it as it moved down. “You know, it would probably do you some good to learn when to keep your damn mouth shut, eh, Felix?” 

He couldn’t even surmise something to say. What good would it do? If he tried to defend himself, he’d probably just make Jeralt even more frustrated with him. All he could do was look at the ground without uttering another word and hide is reddening face. 

“Okay, once Professor Hanneman gets back from whatever he’s doing and Seteth and Flayn are done staking out the beach, I’ll figure out what we’re gonna do with you.”Jeralt frowned at Felix, his voice tinged with a supreme weariness. 

Everyone else just looked at Felix while he tried not to squirm, some shocked, others pitying, and in Ingrid’s case, just plain angry. Whatever those looks were, though, it didn’t matter, it made him sick to his stomach, regardless. 

* * *

It had been a good while until Rhea’s liege and his sister finally made it back to meet up with everyone else, the food had been mostly eaten and Hanneman had been with the group for several hours. 

“Well, it’s about time you two showed up” Jeralt shouted as he laid on the dirt with his arms behind his head. 

“I’m sorry, we needed to find a good vantage point to start the onslaught, tomorrow” 

“Well, while you two were gone, this little shit over here started a fight with another student. If you ask me, it’s probably better we keep him away from the others, while we wait for him to simmer down a bit. Clearly, he can’t handle being around the other brats, at the moment” 

“I suppose you also mean that he sleeps in the tent with the adults, then?” 

“Not just that...” He walked over to the retainer and whispered in his ear, as Seteth formed an impossibly evil smirk on his face. 

“Why, that’s not a bad idea at all, Jeralt.” Seteth turned to the rest of the students as his vindictive smirk was aimed in Sylvain’s direction. “All right, Felix, you’ll be spending the night in mine and Professor Hanneman’s tent. The rest of you four will have Jeralt camping out in your tent, for the time being.” 

Felix said nothing, but his exasperation was clear for everyone to see. Of course, Jeralt would figure that since Felix is impressed with his skill, that he’d be annoyed from being the only one the Blade Breaker doesn’t want to be around. And he was infuriatingly right. 

As for Sylvain... his _horror_ was clear for everyone else to see, especially after seeing Jeralt bear an intensely baleful smile and wave his fingers directly at him. 

Ingrid, meanwhile was sporting a massive, satisfied grin as she looked at the two anguishing men. 

Right as this was happening, a clamorous crash of thunder boomed and small rain droplets began to fall from the sky, and Jeralt let out an enormous sigh. “What excellent timing. All right, you brats, let’s get you all inside before you all get drenched. I mean, unless you _like_ the idea of getting ungodly sick.” 

With nary a hint of protest, everyone bolted towards the tents, with Felix silently dragging his sleeping bag and clothing away without so much as a fuss, from him. 

Jeralt dragged his sleeping bag into the tent, along with some worn bag, that was making some clanging noise, before throwing it and his bedding right next to where Sylvain rests. Sylvain, naturally, gulped on sight and muttered under his breath. “This is where I’m going to die, huh? It couldn’t just be on the battlefield or just anywhere that’d be less terrifying than _right next to him_?” 

The aging merc patted the bedroll next to him and beamed with seemingly malignant intent. 

“Does he really scare you that much?” Ashe whispered to Sylvain. 

Sylvain tilted his head slightly and murmured to the grey-haired boy. “Let me put it to you this way: I assume that since you live near Rowe’s domain that you know about Lord Gwendal, right? You ever seen him get mad? Well, I'm pretty sure Jeralt's hovering around his kind of strength, so imagine him angry, for a moment.” 

Ashe's eyes bulged and he simply patted his doomed classmate’s back, before he could continue. As Lonato often told Ashe about the Grey Lion of House Rowe, he knew all-too well how ferocious Gwendal could get. “Understood. It was an honor getting to know you, Sylvain, I’ll pray for your safe travels to heaven.” 

Sylvain sniffled as his voice heightened in pitch. “Thank you.” 

Jeralt reached into his back as clanging metal sounded from within, and Sylvain jumped back slightly, only to see Jeralt pull out a steel flask. “Finally, I can have some of my damn booze, around here.” 

The womanizer sharply exhaled in relief and relaxed his posture, muttering. “Oh, thank the goddess.” 

The hired hit guzzled down the flask in less than five seconds, before chucking it into a second bag he had on standby, where he then grabbed yet another flask and gulped that down at the same ludicrous pace. 

Dimitri, who’d just plopped down on his sleep sack on the other side of the tent, raised his brows in concern. “Did—did you send Felix away to the other tent so that you could get away with drinking?” 

Jeralt chuckled as he threw away what was now his fourth flask. “Hey, I still stand by keeping that kid away from everyone else, but since there’s some room in here, why not abuse it?” He grabbed another flask and reached out his arm towards the 4 students in the tent. “So, who wants the once-in-a-lifetime offer of a drink with the Blade Breaker?” 

“Sign me up!” Sylvain shouted, before catching the container that Jeralt heaved at him. He opened the lid and promptly covered his mouth and made a disgusted noise. “Oh man, that’s foul! What kind of proof is this thing?” 

“How high can you count?” Jeralt guffawed. “When you work a bunch of mercenary gigs, you get used to some pretty strong stuff.” 

The playboy scrunched up his face and handed the drink back to its owner. “No thanks, I like my liver the way it is.” 

The paladin took out a different bottle and handed it to Sylvain. “Here, take this, you’ll at least not be cursing the goddess’s name, by the time you wake up, in the morning.” 

Sylvain opened the drink while keeping his face as far away as possible, only relenting when he realized that it wasn’t nearly as strong as the previous one, and quickly decided to start drinking it, himself, smiling after exhaling. “All right, now that’s way better. Thanks.” 

Jeralt grinned and took out some more flasks and gave them to the other Blue Lions. “So, you two want to try some?” 

“With all due respect, sir. “Dimitri held his hand out in front of him in courteous dismissal. “You’ve seen my strength when left unchecked, would you really want to give _me_ something to drink?” 

A tiny bit of sweat built around Jeralt’s temple. “You know what? Thanks for reminding me and saving all of our lives.” He swerved over to Dedue. “So, how about you?” 

“I appreciate it, but I cannot.” The goliath coolly shook his head. “If I were to do something that were to disgrace His Highness or worse, be taken out of commission because I drank too much, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” 

Jeralt quickly turned to Ashe and gave a different flask to him. “As for you, I’m not really giving you a choice, you need to calm the hell down. You’ve been stressed this whole trip and I swear I thought you were about to manhandle that horndog over there, so just unwind a little, will you? I even made sure it was one of my weaker drinks, so go on ahead.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Ashe worriedly stammered. “Don’t you think that’ll get you and me in trouble?” 

“Look, if Seteth catches you, you can just say that I pressured you into doing it. Which, to be fair, is what I'm actually doing, anyways. I’m pretty sure Seteth will fault just me. Well, mostly.” The knight confidently assured him. “At least just give it a sip.” 

Ashe looked around to find the other boys watching him, and took a whiff of the flask, which gave off a bit of a fruity fragrance. He took a large sip of the alcohol, draining nearly the entire thing and gave it back to Jeralt as he wiped his mouth. “It’s not too bad, actually. Do you mind handing me another?” 

“I—” Jeralt took a second to process what he’d just heard, before bursting out in a deep fit of laughter. “I was expecting you to just hand that back to me without second thought, but you downed that like a champ! You have a history with this stuff?” 

Ashe sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as his face mantled. “Back when I was younger and having to raise my brother and sister by myself, I had to work to make enough money for us. Sometimes it was just chopping wood, other times I would work in taverns and grape fields, so I got exposed to a bit of wine when I was on the job. Just don’t ask me to eat anything fried or filled with cheese, the tavern’s cuisine made me despise that kind of food.” 

Dimitri’s face was filled with an immense shock, whilst Sylvain and Jeralt could barely contain their grins. “Damn, kid, I got to give you a bit more credit!” The freelancer yelled and threw another flask at him. “Take as much as you like, I brought enough to last the whole trip, but Seteth kind of axed those plans, for a bit, so I got a surplus of supplies. Said that, ‘I’d be setting a bad example,’ and that, ‘I’d be a liability if it were to affect me, during the mission,’ like I don’t have years of experience with far stiffer drinks.” 

Ashe started to down another bottle, enjoying the sweet, grape taste to it as Jeralt continued to laugh. “Man, I’m glad I made the switch with that prideful idiot.” He snickered as he whipped out yet another of his seemingly bottomless supply of alcoholic beverages. “By the way, you kids have any idea what’s got him wound up so tight?” 

Dimitri looked down to the grassy floor below him with a solemn expression. “I take it you heard of the Tragedy of Duscar?” 

Immediately Ashe’s mood went from the brief calm he was experiencing to deep sorrow, recollecting what the Tragedy had done to his own family. Of course, it would’ve hurt more than just him. 

Dedue also showcased a deep grimness, and the same went for Sylvain, as well. 

“So... he lost someone close to him, I take it?” Jeralt pried. 

“Yes, his older brother, Glenn.” He elaborated, his voice heavy and pained. “He was also Ingrid’s fiance, and those two loved him with all their heart, he was a wonderful knight, but he along with my father and stepmother...” 

“Were slaughtered.” Sylvain bluntly interjected. “And then Rodrigue, in his infinite wisdom, told Felix that he, ‘died like a true knight.’ Needless to say, Felix didn’t take that well at all, and he got a lot more bitter and angsty over time, and if you even mention knights, he gets pretty angry, which is part of why he got so snippy, earlier.” 

The pain in Ashe’s heart only increased, upon hearing that. It all made too much sense why he’d made Felix so coarse, back in the library, he’d been praising the knights to Felix’s face without even thinking about what _he_ felt. Then another thought entered his mind. "Wait, Ingrid was engaged to Felix's brother?"

The royal's aching expression grew even more crestfallen, and faintly replied, "That's right. Glenn was the light of a lot of our lives, but then, when those scoundrels got to him..." Dimitri darkly snarled, his pupils dilated and his corneas covered in red veins. “When I get my hands on the people who did this... they'll see the eternal flames as a paradise, by comparison.” 

Ashe became immediately startled and shuffled backwards, quietly whimpering to himself, whilst Jeralt cleared his throat, also clearly disturbed by the violent aura the prince was exuding. 

Sylvain, seeing the rising tension, pulled at his collar and brightened up his expressions and voice. “Anyway, since Felix isn’t here to shut us up, did you guys also know how much of a little softie he was, before everything happened?” 

The Blade Breaker was immediately intrigued, and his voice also grew far lighter. “Oh, I need to hear this, tell me about that.” 

Sylvain lit up with a cheerful glee as he elaborated. “Oh man, if he so much as stubbed his toe, the waterworks would immediately come in in full force. You know the storm above our heads?” He pointed above him, as the uproarious thunder devastatingly crackled. “You know how much rain’s coming down right now? Almost every day with that guy, it was precious.” 

Jeralt heartily cackled at that image while Ashe held his mouth over his quivering mouth, also finding great humor in the thought. 

“Hey, Dimitri, remember how excited he’d get over musicals and all that?” 

The rage in Dimitri’s face faded to a slight pleasure. “Oh, yes, we couldn’t get him to stop singing the songs for weeks, anytime we took him. And remember how he used to get when a cat strolled on by?” 

“Yes!” The ginger pretty boy bellowed in laughter as he clapped his hands together. “He still gets like that, too. He’ll sooner die than let you see it, but sometimes I just see him around the monastery playing around with some kitten and he’s having the time of his life, with it. And he gets so defensive when you bring it up to him.” 

Ashe and Jeralt both could not believe their ears and their amusement spilled out into bursts of laughter at the thought of it. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, a secretly soft-hearted, opera-loving, cat person. It was so at odds with what they knew about him that they couldn’t help but find it hilarious to imagine. Even Dedue, of all people, seemed at least a little bit entertained by these revelations. 

“Oh, and don’t even get me started on his appetite.” Sylvain went on, trying to control his tittering. “You ever notice that when he’s eating it’s usually meat? He’ll probably say that,” His face turned stoic and he harshened his voice, holding his clawed hand in front of his face. “'Meat is necessary to build my strength, a warrior can’t live without it,' but he’s always been like that. When he was a kid, he’d _always_ throw a fit if he wasn’t given a peasant leg or jerky to chew on, and I mean he was just bawling his eyes out.” 

Ashe had his hand over his forehead as he was losing it and Jeralt nearly choked on his drink, wheezing and guffawing from Sylvain’s stories, while Dimitri also was chortling as a wave of nostalgia cascaded over him. 

"Oh, don’t think you’re safe from this, Your Highness.” The flirt pointed as he sipped from his container. “Need I mention the dagger incident?” 

“ _S_ _YLV_ —” 

The night went on like that for quite some time, with several anecdotes about the Blue Lions’ past laid bare. For this one night, Ashe was able to find some sliver of joy and relief from his constant stress, just able to converse and have a good time. 

Felix, on the other hand, was laying in the tent a decent way away from the rest of the group, only hearing the raucous laughter coming from the other men, over the sounds of thunder booming left and right, while Seteth and Hanneman were somehow able to stay asleep, during all that racket.

 **_Looks like swapping places was for the better, I don’t think I could stand even a minute of that_** ** _._ **

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself, anyway. Behind all that self-assuredness, even if he may not ever realize it, knowing that he had only the advisors nearby and no one else to talk to, even antagonistically, was getting to him, and his night was spent rolling around in his mat, unable to peacefully rest for the upcoming battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- So I managed to move down from 5 weeks for a chapter to 3, not exactly much of an improvement, but it's still progress, I guess.
> 
> \- I know that with some characters I write that I make them swear quite often, and to be clear, I'm trying to keep it restricted to certain characters that I can see doing it more often, like Felix (who doesn't really care about how he sounds) or any of the mercenaries (because they also don't really care), because I don't want this to seem like some edgy schlock (or at least more schlocky than it already is).
> 
> \- You would not believe how much time I spent looking at the dining hall likes and dislikes to check and see if I could get that last extended part to work, I'm so glad that it actually sort of worked out in my favor, that time (as far as I know, I don't hear Ashe complain about booze, so I get to make that up and not technically ruin anything!). I love writing scenes where these idiot kids can just mess around with each other and Jeralt is too fun to write. Naturally, I'm not looking forward to having to write the Cause of Sorrow chapters, because of that.
> 
> \- I will never not take the chance to mock Felix's tough outside/soft inside nature, this is only the beginning.


	7. First Blood

“ _You gave them alcohol!?”_ Seteth seethed as the veins in his head kept popping out like they were about to explode from his body. 

“Hey, in my defense...” Jeralt shrugged, before pointing at Sylvain. “He took it from me while I wasn’t looking.” 

Sylvain groaned in pain as his raging hangover kept making his head pound, lying his back on the ground as he kept swigging flask after flask of water, desperately wanting to end the pain before he tries to end himself. So much for not cursing the goddess’s name... 

Ashe, meanwhile, was completely fine, albeit with a somewhat dry throat. All those years on the streets really paid off for his alcohol tolerance, and Jeralt also seemed undeterred from the late-night booze session. 

Seteth angrily rubbed his temples. “You’re expecting me to—” 

“I also took some.” Ashe guiltily proclaimed, not wanting Sylvain to be the only student to endure Seteth’s wrath. 

The green-haired assistant, lowering his eyebrows, had this to say, “Now I know that this is one big lie. There’s no way on earth someone like Ashe would get drunk, the night before our mission.” 

Ashe hung his mouth open wide and tried to protest. “No, I’m telling the—” 

“Young man,” Seteth looked at him with sternness. “I respect that you don’t want Sylvain and Jeralt to be the only ones to harbor the blame, but I ask that you not lie to me again.” 

The ex-commoner held his mouth wide open. “But I—” 

Jeralt placed his hand on his shoulder in assurance. “It’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to try and lie for us, it’s all right.” When he noticed that Seteth’s glare had turned back to Sylvain, Jeralt gave Ashe a proud wink & a grin and whispered, “Hey, I respect what you're doing, but you turned out all right and humored me, I’m not about to let you take the blame for this, all right? 

Felix watched from his tent, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, along with Ingrid, at their friend’s complete asininity. Why did they expect anything else from the likes of Sylvain, really? 

“I will deal with you two later.” Seteth growled, gritting his teeth. “As it stands, we’re about to head to the coast. Somebody will have to watch Sylvain during the trek.” 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you just give me a sword so I can end my suffering, already?” Sylvain moaned, clutching his head. 

The wyvern rider shook his head and turned over to Felix. “I take it your able to move comfortably on your leg?” 

Felix closed his eyes tight in chagrin, knowing exactly where this was going. “All right, I’ll watch over him.” 

“Thank you.” Seteth coolly remarked. “Now, we have a lot of work to get done, the apostates must be dealt with immediately.” 

A dark chill went down Ashe’s spine, the grim reality of the situation hitting him like a collapsing building. There really was no way this was going to end peacefully, something violent was ensured to happen, and that haunted him to no end. 

He felt a hand pat lightly pat his back, and turned to find Dimitri, who also had an expression of deep bleakness on his face, trying desperately to mask it with a forced smile. 

Flayn, meanwhile, had a level of determination none of the Blue Lions had ever seen on her before, looking drastically older as her eyes slanted with her brow, gripping her staff with all of her might. “I must thank you all for your help, now is the time for us to fix this mess at once.” 

Nearly everyone bore expressions of either anxiety, resolution, or both (or in Sylvain’s case, eternal suffering), whilst Seteth began to march towards the north. “All right, everyone, it’s time we’ve moved out!” 

* * *

The group made it to Rhodos after about an hour of walking, and Sylvain appeared to have finally rid himself of the worst of his hangover, for the time being. 

The beachside before them was absolutely incredible to look at the bright blue sea glistening from the shining sun above them, a cool breeze swirled around the area, with the faintest scent of fresh fruits, coming from the nearby forest, behind the rockface above the sand. In the distance, barely visible from where everyone was standing, was a burial site, filled with tall headstones glowing a faint blue light. 

It was an utter shame what they would end up doing to such a marvelous location. In that large stretch of sand and water stood many adversaries in their wake, all wearing lavish, white clothing befitting those of the Church of Seiros. They were all either armed with swords or magic books to draw power from, ready for the bloodbath that was to unfurl. 

“This is it class.” Hanneman proclaimed, adjusting his square cap and monocle. “Remember to prepare yourselves in case—” 

“There will be no, ‘in case.’” Seteth growled, shrouded in an aura of pure, thinly veiled malice. “I tried the day before to get them to leave, they called us heretics and claimed the coast as the Western Church’s. Trying to reason with them further prompted threats of turning their so-called ‘righteous blades,’ on us. There’s no possible way to have these... these recreants from defiling this place any further.” 

“Is there really no way we can stop this?” Mercedes pleaded, with a clear hurting in her cries. 

“Surely we can—” Ashe began to join in. 

“No!” Seteth furiously spat out, his face filled with an uncontrolled outrage. “They brought it upon themselves, when they rejected the church’s demands. They have lost any right to peace when they chose to ruin this holy place. They are beyond any salvation, death is a kindness, compared to what they deserve. So is the goddess’s will.” 

Ashe gulped and was nearly on the verge of tears, utterly terrified at the depths of rage the religious lieutenant exuded. Everyone in the vicinity had shut up immediately, resigned to the task at hand. 

Seteth rose towards the sky on his maroon beast, roaring and breathing an intense, poisonous flame from its snout. His lance glowed a brilliant bright light, shining with an immense power. 

The draconic warrior pointed his blessed lance directly forward, commanding a ferocious presence. “Blue Lion House, show these traitors what happens to those that dare spit on the name of the goddess!” 

Felix was the first to start bolting toward the water at breakneck speeds while his blood pumped at extreme rates, excited for the chance to finally test his blade. 

He was in luck, for he found himself flanked by two assassins (because apparently a holy church needed those) with incredibly fast movements, spiraling around him like a raptor about to feast on its prey. One dashed towards him in the blink of an eye, before being felled in one swing by Felix’s sword, a slash precise enough to slay any foe in one shot. The second assassin followed suit, flipping through the air with his blade, appearing like a circular razor, and striking against Felix’s weapon with a powerful might. 

The swordsman wasn’t about to let one strike deter him, and swerved his sword to his side, switching his opponent’s momentum away from him, and allowing Felix to dodge. This however, did not go without consequence, as the slippery, tenuous, muddy sand below the water, throwing him off balance. 

Seizing the opportunity, his foe lunged with a barrage of swift thrusts, which while not individually strong, together shaved off Felix’s health reserves very quickly. Though he can dish out damage at unbelievable rates, Felix had more experience giving damage, than taking it, himself. The assassin swung his leg at the myrmidon's feet, knocking Felix downward. Felix used the fall’s momentum to push himself back to his feet, with his hands, flipping into the air and back on his feet in the muddy water, before the two charged at each other with their swords, clashing and pushing at each other with their razor’s edges. 

Felix began to overpower the assassin more and more, as the latter was now the one losing balance on the unstable ground. Sensing this, Felix redirected his sword to the tip of his opponent’s, before knocking it out of the assassin’s hands and running him through with full force, finishing him off by cleaving him up from his chest to his entire skull. 

As his adversary fell, Felix swiftly swiped his sword to remove the unsightly traces of blood, gracefully twirled it around his head, before finally sheathing it with a warrior’s grace— 

“Oh, you mind teaching me that?” Sylvain annoyingly laughed as he spun his lance around his head like a complete jackass, showing no respect for the true, precise grace of a swordsman sheathing his blade. 

“That isn’t how you do it, you idiot.” Felix barked, scrunching his face. “You don’t wave it around like a lunatic, you do it like this.” He demonstrated again, calmly spiraling the weapon above his head, and slowly sheathing his sword, until it satisfyingly clicks into— 

“So, like this?” Sylvain snidely chided as he continued to flail like a moron with his lance, clearly enjoying how much he was pissing Felix off. 

“That’s—you aren’t even using a sword, Sylvain!” Felix shouted, tightening his fist into a ball. 

“Oh, come on, Felix.” The philandering imbecile continued to press his classmate’s buttons. “I’m just trying to have fun with my little brother, is that really too much to ask?” 

“If we were ever actually brothers, I’d disown myself from the family.” He growled, crossing his arms. 

Before they could continue their bickering, several watery explosions went off to the northwest. 

“His Highness?” Sylvain rhetorically inquired. 

“Yep, let’s get a move on before the boar gets himself killed or loses control, again.” 

They sprinted as fast as the ground would let them towards the bursts of noise to find a collection of water columns, breaching at ludicrous heights, as Dimitri leapt all over the place, across the beachside. What he may lack in grace, when his crest is active, he makes up for by letting his extreme power launch him wherever he wants. It was a challenge to even see where he was, he was soaring so fast. He barely visible as a blurry smear, in between the geysers that kept erupting. 

“Ah, man, how the hell are these kids this strong?” One of the rioters complained, nervously gripping his sword. 

In the blink of an eye, Dimitri zoomed next to him and two assassins nearby, slamming his lance against the ground and forming a wall of sand, in between them, which he then punted the whining swordsman through with the back of his pike, sending him what appeared to be at least 30 feet, & skidding across the water until he slowed and sunk beneath it. 

The two assassins rushed towards him and attempted to slice his body, but Dimitri deftly spun his lance and shook off the blows through sheer brute force. His crest flashed and the ghostly lightning enveloped him once more, before leaping several feet into the air, which was doubly impressive, given the terrain. The prince harpooned the earth below and a mountainous blast of sand spurted from it, nearly reaching the size of the walls of Garreg Mach. Once the dust settled, a crater had formed in the sand bed, roughly 10 feet deep, and the two assassins were flat on their behinds, into the sand, completely dumbfounded and horrified. 

Dimitri landed in the dirt, looking for the lance, which had probably just drilled to the earth’s core. He took out his sword and calmly walked over to the other two. “I really don’t want to hurt either of you. Leave now, while you still can.”

“‘Leave now,’ he says.” One of them snapped in revulsion. “Don’t come here, force your rules on us, and then put the onus on us to leave, this is all the Central Church's doing, not ours.” 

The royal continued to plead in desperation. “I truly mean to do you no harm. If we can just put down our weapons—” 

“Says the man who just plunged the earth below him in one shot!” The other screamed, his voice shaking and his lips quivering. “You nearly pulverized us and now you’re expecting us to make friends with you? Through force, I take it?” 

Dimitri was at a loss for words, holding his sword out meekly, before one of the two lunged for him at full force, slicing his shoulder. “We're not going to let you tyrannize us, do you hear me!?” 

Felix’s blood spiked and he leapt down into the enormous hole beneath him as he surrounded himself in a dark cerulean aura, revealing a shield emblem in front of him whilst his muscles tightened, the might of his Major Crest of Fraldarius radiating over everyone above and below him. 

He descended upon the assaulter and fractured the man’s brand with a powerful swing, also breaking his arm in the process. With great fury, Felix hacked away at his body with immense force as he roared at the top of his lungs, ripping him to shreds until he finally crashed him through the sand trap with a crest-fueled punch, creating a massive hole in the wall that was quickly filled in by the sand above. 

The other assassin lunged forward as Sylvain dropped in, glowing an intensely vibrating, amber aura as the Minor Crest of Gautier shone in front of him, driving his lance down the enemy’s chest as it violently quaked within him, rupturing his insides and nearly making him burst open. 

“Well, that wasn’t a pretty sight.” Sylvain said as he wiped his forehead with his arm. 

“Boar, are how are you feeling?” Felix asked, once again concealing his cutlass. 

“Excuse me, Felix?” Dimitri blankly queried, looking like a lost child unable to understand a single question. 

“ _Are you hurt, Dimitri or are you able to keep going_?” Felix angrily bellowed, his voice piquing in worry. “Is that shoulder injury painful, does it need attention, or do you think you’ll manage?” 

“Dimi...” He smiled and infuriatingly sincere smile. “I’m just fine, Felix, thank you.” 

Felix’s face was practically glowing bright red and his belligerence increased. “What the hell are you mugging about, boar?” 

“It’s nothing.” Dimitri dismissively waved his hand as his insulting beam kept growing wider. 

“Aw, look at how much you really care, little guy!” Sylvain squawked while he wrapped his arms around the duo’s shoulders. “You’re really such a sweetheart, aren’t you, Felix?” 

Felix slammed his elbow into the Sylvain’s ribcage. “Get your hands off of me, I don’t feel like catching whatever diseases you got, from constantly fooling around.” 

“Hey, that’s a bit much, don’t you thi—” 

Before Sylvain could continue to be a pain in the rear, Felix heard a searing sound above them and immediately threw his friends down, before infusing his crest into and throwing his sword in the direction of the noise, ripping through an enormous orb of flame & melting his sword in the process. 

The billowing smoke was absolutely suffocating, making all three men cough and hack as it infested their lungs. “Boar, you got us into this, help get us out of here! I’m out of weapons and you can clearly just launch us up there, with how strong you are.” 

“About that...” Dimitri chimed in, skittishly. “My crest won’t activate.” 

Felix smacked his forehead so hard that it left a crimson imprint. “You’ve got to be kidding, right now.” 

The attacking warlock, surrounded by two more swordsmen, was charging another flame blast, and pointed his hand forward. 

Sylvain, without thinking, triggered his crest once more and shook the earth with a lance slam to the sandy fencing, creating an even bigger crater and dropping all three foes in at one. 

Would be nice if the sand hadn’t begun to cave in. Would be even better if the water from outside the sand pit hadn’t decided to join in the festivities. 

“‘Oh, wow, we’re really stuck in here... I know! I’ll _make our hole even bigger, trap us all in, and drown us all under it._ Brilliant!’” Felix whined in pure exasperation. 

“Okay, so I might’ve not made the right choice...” 

Felix fumingly rolled his eyes. “Oh, so _now_ you're finally beginning to think.” 

“We needed some way to get that guy in our range, and this was the best idea I had. Sorry you couldn’t come up with something better!” Sylvain flimsily fired back. 

Felix nearly exploded, in response. “ _We. Are. Underground._ What the hell did you think starting an _earthquake_ with your _fissure_ _C_ _rest_ , IN _AN OCEAN_ was going to do? We would’ve been better off in just that crater, with fire raining on us!” 

“You guys, we have bigger problems, at the moment!” Dimitri howled, glaring forward at the three churchmen, who were rising to their feet. 

“Maybe we—” 

“We don’t need any more of your bright ideas,” Felix growled, before rushing forward. “Sylvain, you and I will handle these three. Boar prince, you keep the water from pouring in. I’m sure you’ll find some way to blow up the ocean, at this rate.” 

Before the sorcerer could even begin to charge another shot, Felix smashed his fist directly into the mage's nose, busting it open and sending him reeling. One of the swordsmen jumped at him, but was intercepted by Sylvain’s sword, the two holding each other down with their blades, until Sylvain managed to pierce his enemy's side and kick him towards the wall.

Dimitri, using Sylvain’s lance, kept smashing the water back with great force, while also launching sand in the gaping holes. Had he been utilizing his crest, this wouldn’t be an issue, but even with his base strength, it wasn’t remotely enough to abate the waterfall, and it soon reached ankle height. 

And then water started bursting out of the sides, smacking Felix in the face with a high-pressure stream and knocking him down into the muddied water. 

The other swordsman tried to keep Felix’s head buried underwater, but the latter didn’t care about cheap shots, at the moment, and struck him below the belt, making his foe wince and throwing him off balance. The seasoned warrior rose as he wheezed and coughed from the salty water burning his lungs, barely able to even move, for a brief moment, before Sylvain yanked him back to his feet, with the enemy behind them having been run through with Sylvain's blade.

Dimitri’s panic continued to worsen as the group continued to be swallowed by the ocean floor. That is, until a familiar voice called out from above. "What in blazes are you three _doing_?"

Followed by a deafening, reptilian roar, and a loud crash, Seteth swooped in from above, riding his maroon wyvern until said wyvern slammed its claws into the muddied earth below. "We have to get you all out of here. Now." Without a second thought, Felix leapt towards the dragon's back, as did Dimitri, while the wyvern wrapped its tail around Sylvain's abdomen. With a powerful leap, the flying lizard blasted into the air, slowly lifting the quartet of men into the air, as their enemies screamed out towards them, with Seteth viciously scowling at them from on high. "You dogs deserve what you get."

Once they'd made it above the collapsing hole, the water completely closed in an submerged the heretics in seawater and sand, silencing them permanently. Seteth's dragon soon lost its strength, and dropped Sylvain into the water whilst also shaking off the other two students, relieving itself from their weight.

The Blue Lions crashed into the water below, to their backs’ displeasure. And all three arose from the sea, croaking and in tears, from being choked by the water. 

Sylvain laughed manically at the situation. “Well, that was a close one, huh?” 

“Just shut up already, Sylvain.” Felix snarled, completely tired from everything they’d gone through.

"What in the blue hell did you three even do?" The aide howled.

Felix pointed at Dimitri and Sylvain. "The boar somehow blew the ground below him up and made a crater, and that other idiot thought burying us under the water was an effective battle strategy."

"I might add that we were being attacked from above with _literal fire_ and His Highness's Crest wouldn't activate." The redhead whined.

"That's a laugh riot, because we didn't know that last part until _after_ you'd nearly drowned us. Use your head for once in your life, you pig."

"Look, adrenaline got to me, and we needed to keep them from killing us from several feet on top of us, I was out of ideas."

Seteth smacked his face and groaned. "Even now, you find new ways to irritate me, Sylvain." He pointed his lance to the cemetery to the north. "I'll take on their leader up there. Once you catch your breath, I expect the rest of you to follow suit. And Sylvain..." Seteth glared back at him. "Try not to do anything that stupid, ever again. My patience with you has worn thin." And with that, the wyvern rider soared off, away from the rest.

Felix turned to the Dimitri as he sat up, taking off his sand-coated overshirt. "Even with your crest, how the hell can muster the strength to create that huge of a crater?"

The prince lied faceup as he floated, his voice carrying an immense exhaustion. “I have no clue. I can’t even control my output. Nor do I even know how far I can go. What I do know is that it took nearly everything out of me.” 

His two comrades immediately shivered at the thought of Dimitri getting even more powerful. A truly harrowing thought, regardless of how it affects the man's stamina or his lack of control over it. Hell, the lack of control makes him arguably even more terrifying. Even one shot should be more than enough for him to level a battlefield, should his strength somehow manage to grow further. 

“Man, am I glad we’re on your side and not fighting you.” The flirt timidly chuckled. “Goddess knows what you’d be able to do to us.” 

“Let’s just hope that never happens.” Felix calmly replied, hiding the sheer terror he was currently feeling at the very thought of going up against that _thing_. 

Strong couldn’t even begin to describe him, Dimitri was on a completely different level from anything Felix had seen before. And he wasn’t even losing himself, like other times. If he were to ever be able to master that monstrous power, who knows the kind of hell that would be unleashed? 

“Your Highness!” Dedue screamed in terror as he rushed through the waves. “I came as soon as I heard those explosions. What happened, here? Are you all right?” 

The future king wearily chortled to himself, still somehow able to remain calm after all of that. “I’m quite fine, Dedue, just a little tired, that’s all. We... went for a dip, you could say.” 

“ _Went for a—”_ Dedue and Felix simultaneously cried. 

“We nearly died, thanks to you two morons!” The latter hollered in vexation. 

“Eh, we made it out, so what does it matter?” Sylvain nonchalantly gestured with his hand. 

“You...” Felix sighed as stopped even bothering trying to explain the sanity around him. He’s too tired for this, right now. He rose to his feet, shaking to get the copious amount of water and sand off of him. “Alright, we still have a mission to do. You guys do whatever you want, I’m going to finish this off, before anything else this stupid happens.”

He rushed forward while Sylvain clumsily followed, desperate to end this bizarre, ridiculous day already.

* * *

Meanwhile, back near the rock face by the beach, Ashe was having a considerably rough time, at the moment. He was flanked constantly by sword users and mages alike, and his bow could only take so much punishment, from his constant curved shots. Sure, his arrows land more than they miss, but Ashe is far from the strongest man in Fodlan, and it was slowly costing him, as the forces against him kept closing in. 

Thankfully for him, Jeralt and Ingrid provided fantastic backup for him, as he was getting wailed on. Ingrid was astonishingly fast, constantly dodging through everything that was thrown at her. Her hits weren’t very powerful, but since Ingrid’s as fast as she is, that’s little issue. She gracefully moved throughout the battlefield and took out several enemies in short order, fiercely and beautifully. 

Jeralt, meanwhile, was a machine, throughout. His swings were powerful and precise, gutting mage after assassin after warlock. Nothing could even touch this incredible knight. If the situation at hand wasn’t mortally terrifying, Ashe would be in complete awe. Not even being separated from his horse, thanks to the sand, had slowed him down. 

This, however, did not do anything for his horror at the situation at hand. Left and right, the bodies were piling up. Blood completely oozed over the sand and its runoff made its way to the water nearby, staining it, as well. Turn your head slightly, and someone else had already died in the frenzied chaos that was the battlefield. 

Another assassin managed to close the gap between him and the wannabe knight, while the latter was still trying to collect himself and not break down. Once the assassin had made it to Ashe, a spiraling crescent blade of wind whizzed behind him, decapitating the renegade swordsman instantly, his head spiraling into the air as a trail of blood soon followed. 

“I did it! See, I’m a great fighter!” All three knights turned to find Annette, dancing to herself in cheerful bliss. The others all looked at each other, bearing the same unnerved expression and (possibly) all thinking, 

_What the hell?_

Before anyone could contemplate... _that_ , a blast of white light struck Jeralt from behind and made him keel over. Above him, a woman in holy garbs was showered in a glistening, pearly aura and raising a lightning-shaped sword into the sky. Levin Swords are terrifying in the right hands, and soon a thunderbolt struck Ingrid down to the ground instantly. 

The priestess began to charge another lightning blast form her Levin Sword, Ashe fired his last arrow at her blade, knocking it out of her hands. The blade crackled against the sandy soil, instantly turning it to glass. She began to charge another white energy burst, but Ashe took his axe and started to dash towards her direction, putting everything into his speed. 

The woman fired a blast of light at him and he swiftly sidestepped out of the way and jumped up towards the cliffside. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get a good grip, and was met with another Nosferatu shot. 

Before he landed on the ground, Ashe was suddenly warped up to the upper level, albeit from a considerable distance away, right next to Flayn. 

Ashe forced himself to his feet as the woman charged Nosferatu once more, and Flayn did the same, the two magical bursts meeting each other and cancelling both out. 

Ashe frantically blitzed towards the attacking woman, but for every step closer he got, the pit in his stomach grew more and more. She tried to use the forest as a way to get another shot at him, but Ashe kept bouncing in several directions, to keep her from nailing him again. Anything to end their fight faster would do, even getting her to run out of gas and flee. The bishop tripped over a stray, low-to-the-ground tree branch, twisting her ankle, and Ashe stopped immediately. 

She, in a panic, raised her hand to charge one more blast while Ashe dropped his axe and raised his hands up, trying to assuage her. His voice was shaking heavily as he also tried in vain to keep calm. “I really don’t want to hurt you, or anyone here, truly. If you don’t attack me and just go, I won’t let anyone else know about it.” 

Light continued to swell in the bishop’s palm, and Ashe’s tone continued to heighten in pitch. “No, please! I don’t want any of this, I swear!” He knelt down, still keeping his distance, and pressed his palms together. “Please, if you go know, I—” 

His pleas would not dissuade her, and he was struck by another white magic attack. He tried to get up, but more bursts of light cascaded down on him. “You all came here to do us harm, none of you damned, godless heretics want peace, don’t give me any of that!” 

She marched closer to him, hitting him over and over with her energy blasts, healing her leg and progressively increasing her output as the archer grew weaker and weaker. 

The woman placed her hand to beside her head and accumulated every last drop of magic she could muster in her palm, ready to fire her strongest blast to finish him off. “If there’s any hope for you, you’ll soon be meeting the goddess and not an eternity of hellfire. Take comfort in that, at least.” 

Ashe, fearing for his life, grabbed his fallen axe while she was still charging and chopped at her neck, burying the axe in her. In one critical blow, she fell down to the floor in a bloody heap, choking and sputtering blood until she soon laid dead with her eyes wide open. 

Ashe couldn’t even process what he’d just done for a brief moment, before it hit him like a sack of bricks. For the first time in his life, Ashe Duran Ubert had taken the life of another human being. There was blood on his hands, and one person’s life was cruelly cut short. 

“I-if I’d hesitated… that would’ve been me...” Even when trying to rationalize it, it did him no good. His terror swelled and swelled until he retched on the ground beside the both of them, and tears outpoured from his eyes like a raging river. 

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, I...” As if any of that mattered. You can’t say you’re sorry to someone who’s just died, how will they ever hear it. The best he could do was pray that she ended up where the goddess lives, but even that gave him little solace. Why should it? In what world does _he_ deserve to be sorry about someone else’s life being taken by him? 

“Ashe...” A man’s horrified voice called out. 

The aching child looked up to find his adoptive father, Lord Lonato, standing right above him, appearing ghastlier than he’d ever seen him before, in his entire life. 

* * *

Felix stormed his way up the coast as Hanneman and Seteth were battling the mages, warlocks, and sole bishop occupying the grave site. Seteth’s wrath was reaching a fever pitch, and his speed and strength increased with it, savagely brutalizing several foes with his lustrous lance. 

Every single magic blast had been met either with his impenetrable shield, or with his wyvern’s devastating fire breath. He was no worse for wear, and he was an incredible sight to behold in the thick of the fight. 

Hanneman was... less than impressive, to say the least. His magical powers were quite strong, but he’s the furthest thing from fast, possibly from aging, and that means he spends a lot of time charging, and even more time not really doing anything noteworthy, as if his hands-off approach to battles that weren't the mock battle wasn't enough reason for Felix to not respect him. 

Some of the mages tried to escape, but Seteth menacingly slaughtered them without giving them time to breath. He was as fast as he was powerful, and he was already plenty strong, as is. 

All that stood left was a lone bishop, who, which perfect timing, managed to ensnare both Seteth and Hanneman in a mighty burst of light that shone bright enough to cover the entire seaboard. The professor laid on the ground, groaning as he strained to stay conscious, while Seteth forced himself to his feet, using his lance as a support, to help him up. 

The apostate charged up another magical explosion of Aura, but Felix gave him no time to accumulate energy and rushed forward, full tilt. 

The bishop readied a weaker shock wave, but Felix was too fast for him to keep up, and smashed his leg against his stomach, cracking the man's bones in one strike. 

The religious assistant saw this opening and launched his lance directly at the bishop’s chest, impaling his heart and finishing him off, at last. 

The other two fell to the ground, exhausted, as Sylvain had finally caught up with Felix, huffing and puffing. “You know, you run _ay_ too fast for your own good, Felix.” 

“Maybe learn to pick up the pace, next time, and you wouldn’t be lagging behind, so much.” 

Seteth breathed heavily as the two continued to argue... _again_. “I must thank you for your help, there, Felix. Even I wouldn’t have been able to handle him after all of that, on my own.” 

The proud fighter laid flat on the ground, hands behind his head, and tried to remain calm, while his internal excitement from being praised by someone as powerful as Seteth made his heart soar. “Don’t mention it, it was nothing.” 

“You all deserve my thanks...” He proclaimed as Dedue came in, carrying Dimitri on his shoulder. “We couldn’t stop such blatant heresy on these holy grounds, without your help.” 

“Hey, it’s no problem at all!” Sylvain shouted, slapping Seteth on the back. “We would’ve done it anyti—” 

“I’m still wary of you, Sylvain...” The wyvern rider interrupted. “Don’t think this makes me any less discerning of how you behave, especially around my sister.” 

“Whaaaaaaat?” Sylvain moaned, defensively raising his arms. “Wha—I don’t—that hurts, you know. I was just trying to be friendly, and you took it too far. Quite frankly, I’m a bit offended, that you’d assume that I was trying to—”

Every single person at the site looked at him with the same, slanted, unamused eyes. 

“Sheesh, rough crowd.” He complained as he rubbed the back of his head. “You could be at least a _bit_ more receptive to me...” 

“Not a chance.” Felix and Seteth both scoffed. 

The mighty advisor rose to his feet and moved towards the burial grounds, finding a brilliant lance, staff, and shield, buried in what everyone else thought to be a sort of grave. 

For Felix, this wasn’t the first time he was able to lay eyes upon such specimens of craftsmanship. These were none other than the Sacred Relics, divine weapons that shined a bright blue and white, and are said to have mighty healing properties. The lance was the Spear of Assal, said to be able to fell a herd of horses in one swipe. The rod was the Caduceus Staff, which enables a wider range of magic attacks; rather mundane, granted, but brutally efficient in the heat of battle. The shield was the impenetrable Ochain Shield, which according to legends is supposed to block out even a person’s every weak points, just by having it on them at all times. 

Felix had grown up with one such weapon in his family home, the Sword of Moralta, which is also quite the weapon, though he’d never been given the honor over actually wielding the damn thing, and considering who its last user was, Felix was scared to even try to live up to that. 

“Thankfully, these remained untouched.” Seteth sighed with relief. “If these were to be stolen, then we’d lose such valuable equipment and holy artifacts.” He lifted all three up, placing the shield on his arm and holding the other two sacred weapons in his hands. “Now that that’s been all cleared up, we must meet up with the rest of the class. I pray they were not tangled in something tumultuous.” 

* * *

Ashe couldn’t even say anything intelligible once he saw the look in Lonato’s eyes. There must’ve been a great shame, seeing him reduced to this, what good of a knight cowers down for his duty? What— 

“What did they make you do?” The elderly lord questioned, appearing almost haunted by what he’d seen. 

“I...” Tears quickly welled up in Ashe’s eyes as his throat tightened. He couldn’t control himself from turning into a sobbing wreck of a human being. “I tried to stop her...she kept hitting me with magic... I shouldn’t have even gone after her... I killed....” 

Lonato knelt down and embraced his crying son, rubbing the back of Ashe’s head as he tried desperately to reassure him, though him being audibly choked up didn’t help. “Everything's going to be all right, Ashe, I’m here. You’re safe with me.” 

Ashe couldn’t contain the immense amount of grief he was feeling, even though it was truly humiliating for him to be seen like this by Lonato, but it was nearly matched by the comfort of knowing that even after all of that, he still had Lonato there for him. 

“Hey, what’s going on—” Jeralt shouted, before finding the emotional father and son on the ground. “Hey, Ashe, who’s... Lord Lonato?” 

“Jeralt?” The greying knight rose his feet, helping up his child. “What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were doing mercenary work, in the Empire.” 

“Let’s just say I effectively got forced back into my job at the church, for the time being. The better question is what are _you_ doing here?” Jeralt pointed back at Lonato, squinting his eyes. 

“I’m here because those Central Church dastards were here to take more control from a holy place that was property of the _Western_ Church.” He crossed his arms, getting noticeably aghast at what he’d just learnt. 

And it wasn’t exclusive to him, as Ashe’s heart immediately dropped once the revelation hit him.

_If he’s here to fight against the Central Church, then..._

“Oh, it uh... looks like we’re gonna have a bit of an issue, here, then.” The Blade Breaker sheepishly scratched behind his ears. 

“Who sent you here? Are they with you?” Lonato growled, growing intensely ferocious on a level Ashe was completely unfamiliar with. 

“If you mean Seteth, I’m sure he’d also like a few words with you, as well.” Jeralt gestured for both Gaspard knights to come with him to the coast. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything with you. At least, not right now.” 

* * *

As Felix’s group made it back towards the coast, covered in uncomfortable sand and water from head to toe, they managed to find the rest of the crew save for Ashe and Jeralt at the edge of the beach. 

“I take it you all have cleaned up, over here?” Seteth probed, his smile having faded back into his usual rigor. 

Ingrid courteously nodded her head. “You’d be correct. Pretty much all of our work’s been done, here. Well, except for Ashe, he was fighting someone up top and Jeralt followed the both of them, while us girls handled the rest.” 

“Thank you for your service.” Seteth bowed to all three women, before running towards his little sister. “Flayn, are you feeling fine? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”   
Flayn burst into a beet red shade as she saw everyone else looking at her. “Brother, I’m fine, you don’t need to embarrass me, in front of everyone...” 

The green deputy gleefully exhaled and hung his head in repose. “Thank goodness, if anything happened to you, I’d—” 

“ ** _HOW DARE YOU!?_ ** ” Lonato frenziedly hissed as he stomped up to Seteth , bursting with an impassioned indignation. “You used _my own son_ to take out my men!? Haven’t you bastards done enough to my family as it is? Rhea must have taken great joy in sending Ashe out somewhere he’d get emotionally scarred, I imagine.” He raised his lance forward and gritted his teeth until his gums turned bright white. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Seteth arose with his newfound spear held tight, readying a battle stance. “Lord Lonato, what are you doing here? And what do you mean _your men_?” 

“Lonato!” Ashe screamed out, running towards his father in hysterics. He looked to be in absolute shambles, his blue battle uniform was stained with bright red blood while dull orange vomit and tears were all over his face, while he looked just on the verge of a nervous breakdown and was stumbling with every movement. “Please, don’t do this!” 

“This site never belonged to you in the first place.” The old lord roared as his face burned a fiery red. “And you _dare_ use my son? For what? To teach me a lesson? To hurt another of my family, because once wasn’t plenty? Start talking, you damned dog!” 

“Don’t defile this place and start claiming that it’s yours, this was Central Church property and you have no right to it.” 

“It’s our land, first off, and you still haven’t answered why on the goddess’s blue earth you made _my goddamn son_ take part in this slaughter!” He gripped Seteth’s collar and his rage reached its absolute boiling point. “ _You had no reason to do this to him, start explaining yourself, before I start really losing my temper!”_

Seteth’s rage matched him instantly, shining a brownish-orange aura reminiscent of Ferdinand’s, only far stronger, his Major Crest of Cichol was nearly blinding to behold. “Whose idea was it to place your son under our command, again? Certainly, you weren’t coerced into letting him join; you’ve lost any right to complain about what we do with him, when you _consciously_ handed him over to us!” 

“ **That doesn’t excuse you from hurting him the way you did**!!! **He just wanted to be a pious knight** , **not some brutal slaughterer who’d harm the very people that have watched over and cared for him** , **all in the name of some blasphemous agenda**!” Lonato deafeningly clamored, raising his javelin to Seteth’s throat. 

Seteth’s aura burst in a mighty explosion as Lonato was sent flying across the beach, his body grinding against the sand and leaving a large, imprinted trail as he did so. Everyone else covered their eyes as the energy the second-in-command exuded began to swallow everything in its general vicinity. His Spear of Assal shone with frightening power, and Seteth lunged towards Lonato at blistering speed. 

Before he could give a decisive blow, however, Ashe jumped in front of the aged knight, his arms outstretched as he continued to cry out in fear. “Please, don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt my father!” Ashe was still sobbing uncontrollably, and yet stood there in the face of such a monstrous force as the fully-powered Seteth. 

The spritely noble could only watch his son in both awe and dread. “Ashe, wait!” 

“Ashe, _get out of my way_.” Seteth chillingly spat, his aura growing more and more haywire as he stepped forward. 

The unstable boy stood his ground, gulping before defiantly walking up to the empowered acolyte, with his arms still out to his sides. “I won’t let you hurt him.” 

“To stand against the church and protect a heretic, brands you as one yourself, I hope you realize that, young man.” Seteth quietly threatened in an even more petrifying tone. 

Jeralt swung Seteth around and lifted him by the collar. “Aren’t you some hot shit, menacing a child, like that? Calm down, Seteth, before _I_ get angry.” The Blade Breaker let out a low, guttural growl. “And trust me when I say, you _do not_ want me to get angry.” 

Lonato slowly stood back up as his legs shook, with Ashe going over to him to check on his well-being as Seteth’s aura began to fade, no longer hiding the blood red that coursed over his entire body. “Jeralt, do not test me.” 

“How about _you_ don’t test _me_? Imagine what Lady Rhea would think if you’d harmed an old friend of hers. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of her wrath, now would you?.” He confidently smirked, knowing how in control he truly was. 

Seteth could only sputter in rage as he realized the gravity of who he was dealing with, and began to cool down. “Just this once, I’ll let this stand. But if you ever try anything like this again, I’ll _—”_

_“_ Don’t give me a reason to, and we’ll be fine.” He let go of Seteth’s jacket and crossed his arms in contempt. 

“If you think that this is over, you’re sorely mistaken.” Lonato angrily remarked, pushing himself to his feet. “I won’t let you get away with what you’ve done.” 

Seteth started to move forward again before Jeralt gripped the muscles by his neck, holding him down as Seteth crigned in extreme discomfort. 

“Father, please, don’t...” Ashe wept as his worst fears came to life. 

Lord Lonato placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Ashe, listen to me, if you want to leave this place behind now, I’ll support you one hundred percent. If not, I’ll also understand, but just remember what they’ve done to you, what they've done to Christophe.” 

“I...” The boy’s entire body shook and couldn’t say a single word, as an existential fright gripped him from all sides. 

Lonato slightly vibrated, himself, and began to turn away, with a single tear falling from his eye. “I see, then. I’ll be taking my leave.” As he walked away, he made one last turn around to Ashe. “Ashe, regardless of what happens, I’ll always love you, remember that.” 

He left without another word between the two being said, as Ashe completely crumpled to the ground on his knees, crying and sobbing meekly as everyone else crowded over him, in vain attempt to console the hurting child. Felix and Ingrid helped him to their camp site, and not one word was shared amongst the twelve people in the group. How could they? What was there even to be said? 

And unfortunately for Ashe, this horrific encounter was only the beginning, for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- What's this? I actually managed to release a chapter at a somewhat decent rate? Say it ain't so!
> 
> \- So, I might’ve gone just a bit overboard, in the Felix section. Just a little. I like taking game mechanics/story details to their logical extreme (full disclosure, I'm complete shonen trash and that certainly affects my combat writing), and with Dimitri being explicitly terrifyingly strong, naturally he’s going to really exemplify that. I’m not going to ease up on this, for the record, I’ve already embraced my inner idiot thirteen-year-old, it's too late for me, now. 
> 
> \- In case it wasn’t already obvious, I love writing snark, and Felix is already very blunt and sassy as is. Naturally, I have a lot of fun ramping up that side of him, whenever Dimitri or Sylvain say literally anything. 
> 
> \- And now you guys know why I decided that Rhodos Coast would be a good idea for the first actual mission, I wanted to give Lonato a bit more to do before the next chapter, and this one bleeds (heh) quite well into another chapter about the Western Church (which there is a lot of, in the first half). It also makes his upcoming revolt more personal (as if there really needed to be more reasons for him to do that). It was definitely going to happen already, but with this chapter I really want to drive home how furious he's going to be, in Magdred.


	8. Old Memories and New Dilemmas

The journey back to Garreg Mach was almost entirely consumed by silence and solemnity, on Ashe’s part. All four girls, Hanneman, Dimitri, and even Dedue tried to help console him, but he could barely respond at all, detached from everything resembling emotion, other than sorrow and crippling apprehensiveness. He was basically a zombie, unable to really think of anything but moving, not helped by his inability to sleep, for the past few days. 

No talks about knights from Ingrid helped, nothing about sweets from Annette and Mercedes worked, and talking about revenge and hollow apologies weren’t going to work, so Dimitri and Dedue also failed. Flayn’s unsettling cheerfulness after the mission’s end did little to assuage Ashe’s negative thoughts, and Hanneman tried his best to show his sympathies and encouragement, but they still weren’t enough. 

Felix also found himself unable to say a single word. Not a snarky response to Sylvain, no yelling at Dimitri about his boar-ness, no arguing about knights with Ingrid. What even _could_ he say? It’s not exactly like he and his father are on the best terms, so relating to Ashe’s struggle was out of the question. He wasn’t about to show some hollow pity, that would be degrading for both parties and changes nothing. And he’d sooner die than stoop to pretending to care about chivalry.

So, he opted to not say anything, just kept on walking. 

Sylvain, for maybe the first time in his life, took the tactful route and also didn’t say a single annoying word and simply stayed course until reaching the academy. It must have been torturing him not to say something asinine. 

Seteth had a quiet rage about him the entire time, his breaths often deep and forceful. He wouldn’t look to anyone except Flayn, to keep an eye on her, and Jeralt and Ashe, scowling at them for their defiance towards him. 

By the time everyone made it back to the monastery, everyone seemed to just want to get back to their dorms and back to some semblance of normalcy. 

“I will speak to Archbishop Rhea about the mission, the rest of you may do as you please. Come along, Flayn.” Seteth calmly spoke, before dragging his sister off to the cathedral, though he stopped for one brief moment before having left completely, looking back at Ashe and Jeralt. “And I will have words with you two later.” 

Once the two green-haired siblings had finally left, the rest of the group began to disperse, all giving sympathetic looks at Ashe. 

As Felix was just about to head back, the archer called out, “Hey, Felix...” 

The stoic noble turned around to Ashe to find him clumsily fiddling his fingers. “Finally able to speak, huh? What is it?” 

Ashe continued to shuffle in place, awkwardly, fumbling in his mind on what to say, before coming to, “I’m... sorry about that I kept bothering you. Back in the library, I mean.” 

Felix slanted his eyes in bewilderment. 

**_Library? What the_** ** _hel_** ** _— Oh, right..._ **

**_“_ ** I... uh, that’s fine, not exactly sure why you're apologizing to me _now_ , though.” 

The boy nervously kept his eyes glued to Felix’s feet, unable to meet his eyes. “Well, it’s...” 

Felix crossed his arms. “If you’re going to say something to me, say it to my face.” 

Ashe forced himself to look into Felix’s fierce, piercing amber eyes, which did nothing to avert his skittishness. “I was thinking about why Lonato was around that scuffle between the Western Church and the Central Church. Why would he join in a rebellion against them?” He cleared his throat, anxiously stumbling to get to the point. “And then I remembered that ever since the Tragedy, back when we’d lost my brother, Christophe, he’d always been somewhat sore about the topic.” 

The instant that the Tragedy had been brought up, Felix’s whole body tensed up like he was about to face an army of enemies. In spite of his inner agitation, he still tried to hear his classmate out. 

Ashe continued. “I heard that you also lost a brother a while back, and was told how your father from then on made you hate chivalry altogether. I can’t speak for the man, myself, but I at least want to apologize for not considering why you’d be so upset about the knights. If you want to throw that book back at me, I understand.” 

Felix winced upon hearing all of that, from the bad memories of his brother to seeing this kid so overwrought over one damn argument. Why bother getting so upset over that? 

“You...” He clutched his head and deeply sighed. “Don’t... don’t worry about that. I just lost my temper, I was already in a bad mood, and a sore spot got hit. Nothing to be so apologetic about.” As he saw Ashe continue to look so distraught, he lightened his face up a tad. “Look, I’m still reading that book, by the way, you don’t need to worry about that, either. I don’t have an opinion about it, though, so don’t ask me anything about what I think of the tale, yet.” 

In reality, Felix had completely forgotten all about the book. It was probably under his bed or in a drawer in his room, somewhere. Usually, a lie to protect someone’s feelings is outside of anything he’d allow himself to do, but something hit close to home, upon hearing Ashe’s story out, something he could strangely relate to. 

A small, shaky smile formed on Ashe’s face. “Oh, alright then, I’m glad. I really hope you get something out of it, Felix. I know knights aren’t your favorite thing in the world, but I think you might find something in there you’d really like.” 

The swordsman birthed an assuring smile of his own. “I’ll need more time with it, but when I have something to say, I’ll let you know, all right?” 

“Understood.” Ashe nodded before slowly walking towards the gates of Garreg Mach, turning one last time back to Felix. “Oh, Felix? Thank you, really.” 

Felix scratched the back of his head semi-flusteredly, uncomfortable about being thanked over a lie, but hung his hand above him in a half-wave. “Don’t mention it, Ashe.” 

The calming child made his way past the marketplace as Felix retained his stiffened posture, shook his head, and also headed past the gates in Garreg Mach. Once he made it to his dorm room a little while after, collapsed in his bed. 

In his curiosity, however, he quickly forced himself back out of the bed and looked around to find that book, wondering if he’d thrown it out, at some point. 

Luckily for him, the novel was found after a bit of searching, in between a bunch of textbooks that he’d never bothered to read. Why read about tactics when he already has plenty of experience on the battlefield, right? 

He picked up the tale and checked upon its dark maroon cover, titled, _The Sword of_ _Kyphon_. 

**_Ugh, just by the title, this sounds like the kind of tale R_** ** _odrigue_** ** _would force on me._ **

He quickly placed the book onto his bed before leaving the room with his sword. 

**_I’ll get to reading it when I get back, it’s been days since I’ve had proper training. I’ll get rusty._ **

While he was walking away, however, he took a sudden stop and groaned to himself. 

**_Dammit._ **

Felix marched back to his room, slammed the door shut, and finally opened up the dumb novel. At this point, he might as well get it out of the way, so it stops bothering him. 

As he started down the book, it seemed like the exact same thing someone would read to him as a naïve young idiot, back when he idealized chivalry like his father and departed brother. 

In fact, calling it the exact same seemed oddly accurate. These words, these characters. For some reason, an emotion Felix hadn’t felt in years had been brought to the surface: nostalgia. 

He’d heard this all before, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember when or why. And so, Felix kept on reading, desperate to figure out why his emotions keep swirling like they are, in that very moment. 

* * *

Ashe quietly sulked to his room, wanting nothing more than to just lay down and get the day over with, already, even after the slight relief from his conversation with Felix. As he turned towards the monastery steps, though, he accidentally crashed into another body, right in front of him. Ashe moaned and looked up to find the haunting, ghastly gaze of Hubert von Vestra bearing down on him. 

The commoner’s heart started to beat twice as fast as usual, his breathing became incredibly erratic, and sweat drenched his forehead like he’d just been dunked into a lake. “Oh, Hubert! Hi, I’m so sorry, I—" 

The dark-haired figure let out a low, terrifying chuckle and stretched his hand down. “It seems I may have startled you, forgive me.” 

Ashe shakingly gripped Hubert’s hand, and even through Hubert’s glove, he felt his hand chill to sub-zero temperatures. It was like holding onto a long-dead corpse. The mage lifted the nervous archer up, with his horrifying smile fading away to his typical, still somewhat scary, dignified expression. 

“You were that boy who managed to get the jump on Caspar and me, back at the mock battle, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Ashe immediately gulped as his pupils dilated. “Oh, that? I... it was nothing—” He immediately shut up and started to stammer. 

_Nothing? Really? Yes, Ashe, say that to the man who could easily end your life in your sleep._

“I-I mean... I didn’t mean anything by that, I—” 

Hubert birthed a sinister cackle and Ashe nearly jumped back a mile. “Oh, quite the ego you have on you, hm?” He shook his head and moved closer. “I’m joking, of course, no need to be frightened of me.” He stopped as his face grew quietly menacing. “At least, not _that_ frightened of me. _Yet_.” 

All Ashe could do was give an anxious, high pitched chortle as his discomfort soared higher than a wyvern could fly. Every waking second of talking to Hubert was terrifying for him. For all Ashe knew, he was a perfectly fine, if very eccentric, man, but he couldn’t help feel anxious, every time the haunting man opened his mouth. 

“I see my class and I weren’t the only ones to have returned, today. Lady Edelgard has mentioned quite a bit, about you. I heard your wyvern has a small habit of burning you alive, during your sky patrol duties.” 

The living, breathing wyvern charcoal waved one hand frantically as he tried (and failed) to calm himself down. “Oh, that? Yeah, Beithir is really fond of his fire breath. You actually get used to it, after a while.” 

Hubert flashed an utterly vicious smile as he leaned in towards Ashe. “Oh, so you’re quite adept to pain, it seems. I wonder how much you’re actually able to take?” 

As Ashe nearly relieved himself from thinking of what Hubert meant by that, the later shook his head clamly. “Again, I’m simply kidding.” 

That did little to lower the nervous wreck’s blood pressure, which may very well have been the butler’s intention. “Quite the highly strung one, aren’t you?”   
  
Ashe lowered his head to the ground, embarrassedly. “I’m... sorry, I I don’t mean to be rude to you, Hubert, I’ve just had a lot on my mind, as of late.” 

“First kill jitters, I take it?” Hubert nonchalantly replied, holding his hands behind his back. “I heard the Blue Lions were sent to quell a squabble with the Western Church, if I’m not mistaken.” 

The ever-present remorse in the newfound killer’s heart kept weighing it down, sinking to the bottom. Everything about the past few days was torture, and talking about it wasn’t helping. “You could say that, yes. It got ugly really quickly, and...” 

The deathly butler crossed his arms and the faintest hint of concern appeared on his face, betraying his usual threatening demeanor. In a way, that almost scared Ashe more. “It was also brought to my attention that Seteth had been quite furious, for a good while. It seems you all had been sent out to air his dirty laundry and then some.” He scoffed as his concern faded into disgust. “Quite the holy journey, wouldn’t you say?” 

Even for Hubert, the contempt in his voice was utterly intense. Every word seethed with a hatred even Seteth and Dimitri couldn’t match, it was quite harrowing, to witness. If Ashe wasn’t stressed about his life crumbling in front of his eyes, right then, he probably would’ve been horrified even further, but thinking back to the mission only continued to make him more solemn, than scared. 

Ashe gulped as he desperately tried to regain his composure. “I can’t say that I was happy with what I was doing, but...” His breathing and speech became increasingly shaky as he tried to hold back tears. “I have to do my duty, it’s what I was sent here for, I—” 

“It’s your duty to end someone’s life over someone else’s petty squabbles?” The dark sorcerer sneered, arching his incredibly thin eyebrows. “It’s your duty to act without any care for what you’re doing, following orders because that’s what someone commands of you? Do you even agree with what you were called to carry out?” 

Ashe sniffled and tried to steady his breathing, growing evermore agitated. “It’s what I’m supposed to do, I’m trying to be a knight! What else should I do?” 

“What else should you do?” Hubert’s indignance rose even further, his voice booming across the halls, before forcing himself to calm down with several deep breaths. “I’ve no interest in getting heated over this, I have my own duties to attend to—duties I _chose_ , for the record.” 

Before he could make his exit, he lightly whirled back to the boy. “I apologize, for that outburst. I imagine you aren’t feeling your best, at the moment. But consider this: you were just forced to do someone’s dirty work, in the name of some nebulous aim to help the church, can you really call that duty...” He appeared to hold back a considerable amount of bile that had encroached up his throat, as if what he was about to say nearly made him regurgitate. “...noble?” 

“I...” Much like when he spoke to Edelgard, Ashe had nothing he could say to defend himself. “I don’t know. I came here to become a pious knight, like the ones I grew up loving. I wanted to do what was right, what the goddess would smile on, what would help others like me... And I don’t feel like I did any of that, over the past few days.” He raised his head to Hubert and sheepishly asked. “I know you’re quite close to Lady Edelgard. If it wouldn’t inconvenience you, would you please tell her I said that?” 

Hubert narrowed his eyes in perplexity, before giving a small grin and chuckling to himself. “I think I may understand why. You needn’t worry, Ashe, I’ll be sure to let her know.” 

Hubert made his way past Ashe and marched towards the steps to the dorms’ top floor, as Ashe continued back to his room and landed face first on his bed, too tense to even cry. He simply looked up at the ceiling, contemplating everything that had led him to this point. Wondering what he was even going to do, once the real problems started. 

_Maybe this will just blow over? It’s dumb to think about, but who knows? There’s always a_ _chan_ _—_

He shook his head, groaning to himself. 

_No. What am I thinking? If Christophe wasn’t going to escape punishment for_ _Duscar,_ _what chance would_ _Lonato_ _have of getting out of this scot-free? _

Ashe rolled around in his bed and smushed on of his pillows on his face, in frustration. 

_What can I even do about this? Disobey and get myself killed, betraying everything I’ve done, up until this point? Follow the church and kill my father, the man who raised me and allowed be the chance to become someone incredible, like him?_

He spent the next several hours trying to find anything that could possibly clear his mind. Reading, honing his talents at the training ground, gorging himself on sweets, and none of it worked. Everything he’d been doing for relief had been cancelled out by a chaotic stream of thoughts of the impending consequences of Rhodos. 

* * *

The steadily waning light of the evening slightly glimmered throughout Felix’s bedroom, as he set his lamp ablaze, desperate to keep his eyes on the story. He hadn’t even realized he’d been in that spot for nigh on eight hours. Felix hadn’t even felt the need to eat or use the bathroom, in that time. All he could focus on was the pages in front of him and wondering aloud why his emotions are swelling, right now. 

**_This makes no sense, why am I getting so worked up about this? It’s just some stupid story I remember, I shouldn’t be—_ **

He then stumbled upon a particular duel that grasped him immediately, Kyphon deftly swerved out of his opponents’ reach, slicing them with his blade effortlessly, a simple routine for such a powerful warrior. As he saw King Loog on the backfoot against a particularly fearsome Wyvern Lord— 

**_“‘—he rushed over without a second thought, and took the enemy’s axe to the shoulder. The weapon ground against his bones, whilst_ ** **_Kyphon_ ** **_pierced the scoundrel’s lungs with his_ ** **_Moralta_ ** **_Sword, silencing him in one fatal blow.’” Glenn read on, his voice filled with forced theatrics. “‘Heh, nice to see I’m His Majesty’s meat shield, once again.’ He whined._ **

**_‘_ ** **_Kyphon_ ** **_, are you—’ The king began to cry out._ **

**_‘Please, I’ve taken far worse because of you, spare me the worry.’_ ** **_Kyphon_ ** **_spat. ‘Unlike you, I know my way around a few scrapes. Don’t worry,_ ** **_Loog_ ** **_, your kingly mug won’t be tarnished, as long as I’m still breathing.’”_ **

**_The duo sat on their family’s finely-woven couch as the calm fire in front of them helped keep the two warm from the monstrous blizzard that raged outside. The walls of the_ ** **_Fraldarius_ ** **_estate were plastered with weapons and animal hides of all shapes and sizes, with the family’s famous Sword of_ ** **_Moralta_ ** **_and Aegis Shield gallantly displayed above the bricks of the fireplace, both glowing a wondrous light that the flames only helped intensify into a wondrous glow of a heavenly_ ** **_silverish_ ** **_-blue and brilliant, fearsome scarlet, respectively._ **

**_Felix sat right next to his brother, truly enamored with the tales his brother would read him, eyeing Glenn and the book in awe as he became further enraptured by the story. Felix could read, of course, but he loved how his brother would tell such knightly tales with an immense gravitas and emotion. This one, in particular, Glenn had to have been forced to read one thousand times over and by the goddess, Felix will make his brother read it a thousand times more. Glenn will forever complain about it, before immediately taking out the story without hesitation, because that’s just who he was. Such an incredible young man._ **

**_“‘Why is it that you only seem to show care whenever I’m on death’s door?’_ ** **_Loog_ ** **_asked, his voice filled with a mixture of panic and_ ** **_snark_ ** **_. ‘You can’t bother to show the basest level of respect to me, ever. But you keep letting yourself get brutalized for me. Why,_ ** **_Kyphon_ ** **_?’_ **

**_The sardonic knight hoarsely laughed as he yanked the silver axe from his body. ‘I’ve only so much kindness in me. Considering how many times I had to save your sorry skin, your damn right I’m not showing much more respect.’ He lifted himself up, gripping his shoulder as he weaved his head back to his lifelong friend. ‘And you can bet I’ll do it again, just don’t expect me to be all sweet and flowery about it, like you want it to be. That’ll never change, got it, you Lion?’”_ **

**_“_ ** **_Gleeeennn_ ** **_!” A young girl’s voice shouted from the other side of the estate._ **

**_“_ ** **_Welp_ ** **_, looks like Ingrid’s finally here. Looks like we’re_ ** **_gonna_ ** **_have to end this a bit early, little guy.” Glenn slammed the book shut with an immense smile on his face._ **

**_“No fair, we were so close to the best part!” Felix whined, puffing up his cheeks as water began to swell in his eyes._ **

**_The elder brother roughly disheveled Felix’s hair. “Easy there, Felix, I’m sure you’ll make me read you this again, but right now, I have a fiancée to be with.” He leaned down to his brat of a little brother with a mischievous smirk. “Or are you going to get all jealous, now that I’m spending time with Ingrid?”_ **

**_Felix’s face burst into an overpowering vermillion. “_ ** **_Th_ ** **_-that’s not true at all! I don’t look at her like that!”_ **

**_“I never said you ‘look at her like that,’ I just said you were jealous. I think somebody’s telling on himself.” Glenn’s grin stretched across his entire face, greatly enjoying the bind he put his little Felix in._ **

**_“You tricked me! How could you?” The young noble cried, a bevy of tears falling down his face._ **

**_“Hey, come on, I was just messing around, no need to keep crying about it, sheesh.” Glenn shrugged and_ ** **_annoyedly_ ** **_sighed. “Look, once I get the time, we’ll pick up where we left off. Alright?”_ **

**_Felix wiped the tears and snot off his face as he gave a weak smile. “Alright, Glenn.”_ **

**_Before his idol could leave, Felix gripped his sleeve tight. “Thanks for doing this, with me.”_ **

**_A light smile reformed on Glenn’s face as he knelt down to the fragile young lad, placing his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “No problem, Felix.” He popped his collar as he radiated an aura of bravado. “I know I’m just that_ ** **_awesome_ ** **_of a brother.” Glenn placed the back of his hand on his tilted head, taking on an almost operatic flair. “If only my grace could match my debilitating humility.”_ **

**_Felix burst out laughing at his brother’s dramatic behavior._ **

**_“But seriously, I’ll get to it later, I just have other things I need to do for a bit. You know I’ll always make time for you, right?”_ **

**_Felix nodded and quickly embraced Glenn with all of the love in his heart, teary-eyed and beaming like he’d never done so before, which his brother happily reciprocated._ **

As the memories came flooding back into Felix’s mind, his face burned like fire and his eyes stung with teardrops. He sniffled and shakily chuckled to himself. Utterly shameful and humiliating as it was for a warrior like him to get so caught up in something as schmaltzy as this, he couldn’t help but get sentimental over one of the last times he could be with his beloved brother. 

As fond memories of the past continued to swell in Felix, his bedroom door flung wide open. “Hey, Felix, you—” Sylvain shouted, uncaringly, before seeing Felix curled up on his bed and emotionally unguarded. 

“ _Sylvain_!” The emotional man roared, wiping the water from his eyes and face. “Have you ever heard of _knocking_ , before coming in!?” 

The reckless flirt’s pupils dilated and he caved his lips inward. “Huh, so _this_ is what it’s like, being on the other side of that.” He shook his head and moved inside the room. “Are you ok—” 

“I’m fine.” Felix grumbled, not wanting anyone to see him in his moment of weakness. 

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been cryi—”

“ _I said I’m fine_!” Felix indignantly screamed, chucking his pillow at Sylvain’s greasy mug. “What do you want?” 

Sylvain briefly played with his hair to get it to the usual level of unkempt that it was. “I was looking for you back at the cafeteria and training grounds, and I thought something went wrong when I didn’t see you there. You reading something?” 

“Yeah, I—” Felix immediately slid his book under his blanket before leaping out of bed. “Are you here to bother me again, or...” 

Sylvain pointed his thumb behind him. “Nah, I was actually wanting to see if you’d help me with some training.” 

The swordsman frowned and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Training? _You_? Did you try to impress a girl and felt you needed more muscle to woo her? By training, do you mean goofing off with a lance or flirting with someone else. Oh, I know—you want to pull another stunt like you did back at Rhodos for kicks, right?” 

“Yeesh, way to really lay into a guy.” The ginger pain-in-the-neck rubbed the back of his head, before tightening his face. “But no, though you were on the right track with that Rhodos thing. I nearly got you and Your Highness killed, and I figured it would do me some good to actually, you know, get in an actual headspace for combat and not send us to a suffocating grave.” 

Felix remained unconvinced. As if _Sylvain_ , of all people, would really get worked up about that. “Really? You’re often so carefree about death, I don’t get why you’re suddenly so caring about me or someone else dying.” 

Sylvain's face immediately changed back to his typical goofiness that Felix despises oh-so very much. “Hey, I’m not so great about preserving myself, but I never would let you, Ingrid, His Highness, or any other of our classmates get hurt over something stupid I did.” 

“Well, that’s a first.” Felix spitefully croaked, his ever-present scowl glued to his visage. “And as of late, I could swear training gave you a rash, from how little I see you at the training ground.” 

Sylvain merely shrugged and his voice grew uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, but you saw what went down, back at the coast. Call it a hunch, but I don’t see the church or Lord Lonato letting that slide, anytime soon, and I want to be ready for it. If I'm good for anything, it’s keeping you alive—minus that _one and only_ time, for _one_ mission.” 

The swordsman squinted as his lifelong, estranged friend and tiredly murmured. “All right, fine, I’ll help you, but if I see you moving away to flirt or goof off, I swear, I’ll—” 

The supposedly sincere sycophant placed one hand to his heart and raised his other one by his head. “Hey, you have my word. I’ll do my best not to annoy you. Once we get there, anyway.” He muttered almost inaudibly under his breath, “easier said than done.” 

Felix exhaled in resignation and walked towards Sylvain. “I guess that’s the best I’m going to get out of you. However, if you expect me to help you...” Felix glared directly into the man’s light brown eyes, poking his chest with his finger. “ _None_ of what you saw gets out to anyone. You got that?” 

Sylvain gave his shorter comrade his trademark wink and casual grin, leading Felix out of his room. “No worries, I won’t tell anyone. Now, bringing it up to _you_ , on the other hand...” His disgusting mug grew even wider in his typical annoying fashion. 

Felix slammed the door shut behind him as he slightly unsheathed his blade with his thumb. “Try it, and I put my sword in you.” 

Sylvain leisurely wrapped his arm about Felix. “Oh, Felix, I never knew you felt that way about me.” He leaned in and crassly whispered, “If I knew about that sooner, I would’ve come onto you a bit stronger.” 

Felix’s face blushed a shade of red that matched Sylvain’s hair before he smashed his elbow against the insufferable philanderer’s sternum. “That isn’t what I meant, you damn sex fiend!” He stormed off to the training ground, enraged that Sylvain went and continued to be as vile as possible, yet again. 

Sylvain coughed from the blow to the chest before running after the belligerent Felix and screaming, “Wait, crap—Felix, hold on! I was only kidding! I'm sorry, I take it back!” 

* * *

Ashe had lost all sense of time, as the moon glimmered in the sky above him. How long has it been? Three hours? Nearly a whole night? It felt simultaneously like an eternity and incredibly short. He couldn’t stand to stay stirred up in his room any longer, as sleep was thoroughly out of the question, due to his increasing stress. 

He looked both ways out the door, to find no one around, and began to take a walk, throughout the monastery. The cool night air was refreshing, compared to the oppressive heat of inside the dorms. The moon shone a beautiful white glow throughout the dark blue sky, alit with shining, brilliant stars all around. As Ashe found his way below the lounge behind the dining hall, he heard a woman softly sobbing on the opposite side of the shrubbery. 

He ran back up the steps and once he reached the lounge, Ashe found Dorothea in a light orchid-colored nightgown, sitting on a bench with her face red and eyes red, drenched in tears. She looked up right at Ashe from a few feet away and nearly jumped out of her seat. “Ashe! What are you doing here?” 

The startled archer held up both of his hands in front of him. “I was just going on a walk to clear my head and I heard someone crying. I swear, that’s all I was doing.” His voice softened and slightly rose in pitch, his expression taking on a more somber look. “I take it you also aren’t holding up so well, either.” 

She quickly wiped the tears out of her now somewhat swollen eyes, shaking her head. “Not really, no. I... well you could say that I’ve not been my best since my mission.” 

Ashe awkwardly rubbed his arm as her built up to courage to ask. “I know we aren’t in the same class, or anything, but would you like to talk about it? My mission was also pretty grim, so I think I can understand how you’re feeling.” He quickly raised his hands up again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but if you need anything, I can help.” 

Dorothea lightly nodded before sidling to the outer side of the bench, patting the seat right next to her. Once he sat down with her, her voice began to shake. “I know I probably should’ve expected this going into a military academy, but to actually have to...” Her lips quivered and she lowered her head in shame. “Seeing someone die by my own hands, it’s—it’s terrifying.” The songstress tightly gripped her gown as her face tensed up. “I go here thinking I have a shot at settling down and having a good life for myself, and barely a month in, I’m already assigned to kill in the church's name.” 

It felt like forever before Ashe could begin to speak, as the air was filled with an awkward silence. “I also ended up killing someone for the first time... I know if it wasn’t her, it would be me, but...” He gulped for air as his turmoil nearly ran wild. “I can’t pretend I shouldn’t have seen any of this coming, and yet I still feel so disgusted with myself, right now. And the thing I fear most is that the first time and last time are very different things.” He immediately looked right back up to her with newfound worry. “Sorry for taking over the conversation like that, I—” 

Dorothea gently laughed as her demeanor slightly relaxed, sporting a small smile of reassurance. “Hey, it’s fine, I wouldn’t have said anything if you also didn’t mention that you also were a bit shaken up.” 

Ashe loosened up slightly as she went on. “After all of those years I spent on the streets having to butter up—” She swallowed for air as she seemed like she’d vomit from even finishing her sentence. “And now I have to do even more disgusting things, just to make it by. Nice to see my life is still filled with more and more ugliness.” Dorothea turned to meet Ashe’s eyes as she moved her fingers through her long, rich brown hair. “Hey, I heard you were adopted into a noble family a few years back, but you also had to live the life as a commoner for a while too, right? I guess you also had a rough time of it, too?” 

“Yeah, actually. My parents died when... honestly, I don’t even remember how young I was. All I _do_ know is that one day, my brother, sister, and I were all on the street, and I was the only one who was able to provide for us... and well... sometimes I’d have to steal from others in order to feed us. It’s not a noble way of doing things, but...” 

The songstress immediately became more somber than before, sporting a sympathetic pain on her face. “Hmph, I can’t say I’ve had to raise a group of people by myself, but I know what it’s like to have a parent die and be left alone on the streets. And like you, I got picked up by someone else, after being on the streets for years on end.” Her beautiful smile reformed once again, if only for a moment. “I’m sure you know Manuela, right?” 

Ashe swiftly nodded as soon as Manuela’s name was dropped, noting, “Thanks to my wyvern from sky patrolling having his way with me, I’ve grown very familiar with her, at this point. We like to joke about my routine infirmary visits.” 

A tiny giggle slipped out of Dorothea’s mouth, before shaking her head guiltily. ”I’m sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at that.” 

Ashe met her giggle with a laugh of his own and waved his hand downward. “That’s fine, trust me, I’ve learned to find humor in the situation, myself. Anyway, you were saying about being found by Professor Manuela?” 

“She was the reason I even got a chance at a good life. Because of her, I got to be a songstress at the Mittelfrank Opera Company, and eventually I managed to get here, though...” A flash of supreme disgust and anger appeared in her eyes as she gripped her gown, her limbs shaking. “Once she left for Garreg Mach a few years back, and I realized all I had to my name was my opera career and aside from my appearance and voice, not much else going for me, I decided I needed to get here using what I had to my advantage. And that meant having to entertain the nobles, in more ways than one.” 

The dismal implications were not lost on Ashe, and his voiced softened to a sympathetic sobriety. “And by ‘entertain,’ I assume you mean...” He didn’t want to actually finish what he was asking, feeling rude to do so, but he too had already said enough for Dorothea to get the idea. 

She nodded her head grimly. “And it worked, if there’s one thing those nobles are good for, it’s being predictable, they’d do anything for a night out with the ‘Mystical Songstress,’ and all that entails. And now that I’m here, I still have to keep this up if in hopes of my life getting get any better than going back into poverty, once my singing days are behind me. I guess now, though, that also comes with killing in the church’s name, too.” 

The songstress’s eyes dampened again, losing a bit of control in her own emotions, wiping her eyes once she’d realized it, herself. “Anyway, I’ve gone on how hard my life is, but I can’t imagine having to raise two people along with me, I was all alone, that whole time.” 

“I wouldn’t go far as to say that, I never had to go through what you did, I just did some odd jobs and stole from other people. I never had to use myself in that way.” He tittered to himself as a ridiculous thought entered his kind. “Then again, could you imagine me trying that out?” 

Dorothea immediately let out a short guffaw at the very idea. “I’m sorry, but just the image of you trying to—” She was cut off by her uncontrollable laughing. 

“What?” Ashe leapt from his seat, striking what may possibly be the absolute silliest attempt at a seductive pose in history, putting one arm behind his head, another on his hip, and flaring his other hip out while winking at her. “You don’t think I can pull that off?” 

Dorothea’s laughs grew increasingly louder as she grew a humongous grin, her cheeks bright red. 

He loosened up his posture and gave a reassuring smile. “Considering that I took money from people, noble or otherwise, I have no right to judge you on how you got here. I’m here because I got lucky and broke into the right person’s house. If anything, I’d wager that I’m less deserving to be here than you.” 

She lifted herself up as she met his reassurance with a warm smile of her own. “I appreciate the kind words, even if I don’t know if I fully agree with them.” She wrapped her arms around the boy tightly and whispered, “Thanks for that, Ashe, that really helped.” 

Ashe’s face broke out in his usually embarrassed bright scarlet and began to stammer. “N-no problem Dorothea. I-it-it's nothing.” 

The performer let him go as she released another chuckle. “I love how you always get so flustered around me. I have to say...” She flirtatiously winked at him with a coy simper. “It's kind of cute.” 

And once again, Ashe devolved into yet more faltering and reddening. “Um, thanks? I—” 

Dorothea’s laughs grew louder at Ashe’s expense, her shouts filled with jubilation. “I might need to do this sort of thing more often with you, I think.” 

“Please don’t.” Ashe muttered as he floundered like a fool who’s never talked to a woman in his life. 

Dorothea leisurely let the archer go and began to move away from him. “Anyway, I should be going, wouldn’t want to keep you all held up on your walk, Ashe.” 

He frantically moved his head back and forth. “You haven’t been holding me up at all. If anything, this did more for me than some walk would. Thank you for that, Dorothea.” 

She affectionately beamed at him with a countenance friendlier than Ashe thought was humanly possible. “Thanks, Ashe. The same goes for you too, this really helped cheer me up.” She started to walk back towards her dorm, before teasingly blowing a kiss at Ashe and playfully waved her fingers at him, coquettishly calling out, “Good night, Ashe.” 

He skittishly waved back to her, trying his best to hide the unwarranted nervousness and the bemused, embarrassed amusement on his face, before heading back to his room, now able to collapse in his bed with a far less stressed mind. For now, he was (comparatively) calm and able to forget about the strife in his life for a brief moment, something not at all lost on him. 

Just being able to talk to someone like Dorothea, getting his own struggles, made getting through the night far easier. It made the idea of a moment’s respite actually somewhat possible, for Ashe. For that brief moment, he could sleep without worry of the fall out that was about to occur. 

At least, not for _that night_ , anyway. 

* * *

“This is a cruel joke, right?” Ashe pleaded despairingly while his eyes welled up. 

It was a cloudy, grey afternoon outside the premises of the Officers Academy, the wind began to exponentially pick up speed as Ashe’s entire world began to spin around him. He could barely remain on his feet from the revelation he knew would happen, but dreaded becoming a reality. 

“I’m so sorry, Ashe.” Hanneman held his hand on the boy’s shoulder as the other class looked on, each and every one of them crestfallen. Felix, in particular, gripped his crossed arms, his entire body tnesed up. “I’ve just found out about the circumstances myself, but he’s waged war on the Church and the archbishop, specifically.” 

Ashe stepped back, his breath getting fast and heavy. He was getting immensely dizzy, he was so scared he wanted to vomit just for some sense of release. “And we’re... we’re being sent in to murder him?” 

Hanneman’s eyes darted to the side, unable to meet the child in turmoil. “I’m afraid that’s actually the one part where you’re wrong, but not for the reasons you may think. In reality, it will be the Black Eagles who’ll head down to Magdred to take care of things.” 

Without a second thought, Ashe bolted out of the room as fast as he could run while his adrenaline spiked to borderline inhuman levels. 

“Ashe, wait!” Hanneman cried out, but Ashe had already ran too far and was too terrified to hear him out. 

He was running so fast that he could barely keep his balance and stumbled haphazardly all the way as he made a mad dash to the Central Building, rushing up the stairs at breakneck speeds. 

_This can’t be happening! No, I can’t allow this to happen—I won’t!_

He burst into audience chamber on the second floor, nearly smashing the hinges off the door as he gracelessly skidded across the ground. 

Ashe looked up to find none other than the archbishop of the Church of Seiros, herself, Lady Rhea, standing there serene and strikingly gorgeous, her radiant, light green hair shining against the beautiful lights shining in from the marvelous stain-glass window behind her. Somehow, she seemed completely unfazed by Ashe’s wildly inelegant entrance. 

“Lady Rhea, I—” 

Before Ashe could even get a word in, Seteth came running in behind him, shouting, “Just what on earth is going on, in here?” He looked down at Ashe as frustration replaced the confusion on his face. “Ashe, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in—” 

“Please don’t send anyone on the mission without me!” Ashe screamed, panickily shaking as he looked directly up at Rhea, trying his hardest not to break down in a sobbing fit as he groveled and begged. He placed his head close to the ground in subservience as he pleaded with all of his heart. “I won’t be able to live with myself if he dies because I’m part of the reason he’s fighting against the church. I know I’m asking a lot, but please, Lady Rhea, let me join the Black Eagles, so I can talk him down from this, I’m begging you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I adore writing Ashe’s scenes with Dorothea. It helps that I love the both of them as much as I do El and Claude, but considering who they are and their past, writing them together is extra rewarding. Also, it gives me more room to write Ashe as the ray of sunshine/encouraging goof that he really is, especially in how he falters around pretty women, which with the flirty Dorothea is all-too easy and fun to pen down. Plus, as I've focused more on his humble side/how hard the first months are on him, I’ve made him more negative & lost versus how his game counterpart acts, which I want to try and remedy before and after everything goes down with Lonato. I don’t want this to just be the Ashe's Angst Variety Hour, so if I can give him something more fun/heartwarming, I will. 
> 
> \- I don’t believe much of The Sword of Kyphon gets explained other than [Kyphon being good friends with Loog](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/13/Felix/endings) and him cutting enemies down (from what I could find, including [Ashe’s support with Ingrid](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/supports/Ashe/Ingrid/C#event-22)), so naturally, I’m going to use that as an excuse to make that the title for a book for Felix. Especially since he’s evidently a relative of Kyphon, and [Dimitri establishes sarcasm is in the Fraldarius’s genes in their support](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/supports/Dimitri/Felix/C#event-7). If the in-game text doesn’t fully go into something or there’s absent implications, I will happily abuse that to tell the story that I want to.
> 
> \- Fun fact about Felix’s C-Support with Sylvain: [Instead of “insatiable” in the JP release, he flat-out calls him a sex fiend](https://nanigma.tumblr.com/post/188614882227/sylvainfelix-full-japanese-support)! I assume this was taken out because the actual word “sex” was used, even when it’s been implied so much (though “[prostitution](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/1040/Yuri/basics)” is apparently okay. Game age ratings are dumb). I just found that really funny and wanted to work that into this, somehow. Well, that and I also just really like the idea of Sylvain accidentally being unable to turn off his flirt/snark settings, so I get a double win, here! 


	9. A Question of Morale

Ashe had to have been waiting for Rhea’s answer for what felt like an eternity, as he groveled in desperation in the audience chamber. For all he knew, she was just processing how much of a terrible scene he must’ve made. He went in for a question while screaming and nearly breaking the door open, like a wanting toddler throwing a tantrum. As if he wasn’t in enough hot water, as it is, with the church, after what he did back in Rhodos. 

“There’s no need to grovel, young one, of course, you may accompany Professor Eisner, on her mission.” The boy’s head reeled straight up to find her dazzling smile, seemingly undeterred by his outburst. 

“What? Rhe—Archbishop,” Seteth cried out. “Aren’t you aware of how he directly defied orders during his last mission? He flagrantly got in the way of punishing his father the last time, how do you—” 

Rhea’s warm expression turned into a cold glare in Seteth’s direction, scaring the living daylights out of the both of them. It was a scowl that commanded authority, while also being downright terrifying in its ferocity, all from one facial movement. “I am more than aware of your past mission, Seteth. You’ve made what he did very clear to me. Several times, in fact.” 

She knelt down Ashe and held out her hand to him. To his surprise, her palms looked worn and calloused, as if she’d gone into battle several times over, her wrist had a light scar on the back of it All of this betrayed the pristine, unearthly image in which she often appeared as. “If it’s possible we can have this child convince his father to lay down his arms, perhaps that can make up for his rebellious actions.” 

He lightly held her hand and pulled himself off of the ground, before bowing in front of her, his face shining an intense red. “Lady Rhea, thank you so much. I—I’ll do whatever I can to diffuse the situation. I didn’t carry myself well at all last time, but I’ll do my best to make up for that.” 

The high priestess kindly beamed once more at Ashe. “I’m quite happy to hear that Ashe. Though, I’d actually already suggested to Hanneman that you join the Black Eagles to Magdred, a short while ago. Did he not say anything to you?” 

Ashe’s mind flashed back to the scholar frantically calling out to him and winced, closing his eyes incredibly tight. The red on his face deepened. “I... might have ran over here the second I heard about the mission... before Professor Hanneman could tell me anything. I’m so sorry about that.” 

Rhea gave a small, affirming chuckle. “I understand. I imagine that the idea of losing a parent is quite terrifying. I also...” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Regardless. You’re more than welcome to join. Now, I have my own business I must attend to.” She held her hands together and bowed her head. “May the Goddess be with you.” 

Without a second thought, Ashe bowed his head once more and held his hands together, sighing with relief. “May the Goddess be with you too, Archbishop.” 

As he turned, he found Seteth, frowning and folding his arms together, standing at the doorstep. 

“Seteth, I’m sorry about my outburst at the coast.” 

The retainer sharply inhaled. “It seems that Lady Rhea is fine with it, so I must respect that. However,” He leaned down at Ashe, fiercely glaring him in the eyes. “I hope that there won’t be any more stunts like that again.” 

Ashe gulped. “N-no problem, I’ll do my best not to cause any more trouble.” 

“At this point, that’s all I can hope for, it seems.” Seteth turned and walked back to his room, clenching his fists, to the archer’s terror. 

Ashe, meanwhile, hurried back to class with a face scorched with red, already trying to find out how to apologize to Hanneman for his impulsiveness. 

* * *

After yet another day of more uninteresting classes, Felix dragged himself off to the library to continue his reading. Goddess knows that if he remains in his room, Sylvain will easily snuff him out, again. As for the library, well, Sylvain would never go there unless he’s hunting a woman who loves reading, but that also means him going after a woman who’s smart, who’d be unlikely to accept his advances, so to the library, it was. 

For the past few days, Felix had been taken hostage by the book Ashe had given him. It’s not a spectacular or even great story, but he couldn’t stop himself from reading the stupid thing. 

He turned into the atheneum and immediately smacked into another person, stumbling backwards. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about—Felix?” 

Felix looked up to find Ingrid holding a stack of books and staring at him with the most confused expression on her face. “What are you doing here? Since when have you ever wanted to visit the library for anything?” 

His eye twitched and he turned his head away from her. “Well, I needed a place to get some peace and quiet, from Sylvain, and this was my best bet.” 

Ingrid looked down at Felix’s book. “Oh, is that the Sword of Kyphon? I was just reading that with Ashe, the other day. Why would you be—” 

“He gave it to me—” Felix curtly barked. “He thought I’d like it and before I could tell him otherwise, he’d ran off. Said that I was just like the knight in the book.” 

Ingrid giggled to herself. “I mean, he does kind of have a point. I see that you’re actually enjoying yourself with a tale about knights, for a change.” 

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it because of the reasons you think I am though.” 

The lady knight raised her eyebrows in confusion. “Then what _are_ you reading it for?” 

Felix let out a deep breath. “It... it was something Glenn used to read me all the time as a kid. I’d often make him read it over and over. The book kind of reminded me about a different time.” 

Ingrid’s eyes became swimming in pain. “I didn’t know that was something he’d read to you. Sorry if I somehow might’ve been partially responsible for him bringing it up to you.” 

He put his hand out in front of himself. “Save it, it’s fine, you didn’t know. Actually...” A small smile escaped him, for a moment. “It was kind of nice, reliving those days.” He locked his eyes dead on hers, with a fierce aura. “Don’t tell anyone else I said that. I don’t need the others pitying me, over this, it’s disgusting.” 

Ingrid let out a laughing sigh. “No worries, Felix, you know I wouldn’t tell anyone else about this.” She gave an infuriating, knowing smile. “I’m glad you’re finding some enjoyment out of those ‘silly legends.’” 

“Hey, while we’re still talking about Glenn, have you been telling Ashe about him?” 

She turned around more confused than ever. “I never even brought up my family around him, why do you ask?” 

“He...” Felix placed his hand on the side of his head. “When we got back, Ashe tried to apologize to me for something stupid, and he said he was sorry for not considering that I may have family that died in Duscar. I figured you would’ve said something to him, since you two seem to spend a lot of time together.” 

“I mean, we do talk a lot, but not usually about something like Duscar. Who would—,” They both looked at each other and groaned. 

“Sylvain.” 

“One of these days, I’m going to kill him.” Felix sighed, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “He needs to learn when to keep his damn mouth shut.” 

Ingrid, for her part, seemed equally exasperated. “Well, if you do, do you mind letting me get a few hits in?” 

A small grin formed on his face. “I’ve got a better idea: we take turns on who holds him down and who kicks his ass.” 

The lady knight lightly laughed. “Consider that a deal. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to pry out away from your book. Later, Felix.” 

As she started to leave, Felix was reminded of one last thing he wanted to say to her, and shouted, “Ingrid, wait.” She turned around, and Felix deeply sighed and shut his eyes. “I’m... sorry about what I said to you, back when we were setting up camp.” 

She placed he books down behind her and crossed her arms. “Are you referring to when you called me weak? When you insulted my dreams? Told me to go find a husband? Used Glenn to hurt me?” 

“Yes, to all of it.” He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “I... you know how I... Dammit, I don’t have the words to...” 

She walked towards him with a softening expression. “I know, you’re not great at being gentle with your words, but still, do you have any idea how I felt when you said that? I was just trying to ask for input from a friend, and you berated me, treated my ideals like they were worthless, and then used the love of my life against me, like that.” 

“I know...” Felix scowled, trying to hide his regret. “That’s why I’m apologizing. I’ve been—look, I’ve been thinking about my brother more and more, lately. And you could say I was reminded that other people got hurt by that. I’ll admit I was a bit rough, and I’m... sorry for that. Look, I can’t put it right, but—” 

Ingrid let out a deep breath and raised her arms out in front of her. “Well, I have one idea on how to apologize.” 

Felix winced and moaned, “Oh, please, don’t make me do this...” 

She lightly laughed at him. “Come on, I’m not Sylvain, you know I won’t try and make it weird. Just one hug, from a friend? Please?” 

Each step towards her was the most agonizing experience he felt in forever, and the hug was even more awkward for him. If saying how he felt was hard, having to show physical affection was almost painful, for the swordsman. 

It was even more uncomfortable when she spoke in his ear and said, “See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” 

He forced himself off of her with a face coated in crimson. “Okay, that’s been long enough. I’m going to read, now. Later.” 

“Good bye, Felix.” She chuckled to herself before picking up the pile of books, and making her exit, while Felix bolted towards the library, desperate to suppress such an awkward moment from his mind. 

* * *

The walls of the Garreg Mach cathedral stretched so far into the sky one would think they could pierce the heaven, the room glowed with a gorgeous golden light shimmered throughout the enormous complex. The floors were decorated in a plethora of geometric shapes drenched in warm colors, compounded by the candle lights that glistened beside the titanic columns. 

In the front of the cathedral lied several rows of pews, one of which Ashe was sitting at alone, praying desperately for good fortune. 

_Goddess, please, hear my prayer. I know I’m asking an awful lot, but I don’t know what else I can do in these times. Every minute I can’t stop thinking about my mission to take on_ _Lonato_ _, in a few short weeks. I keep getting images of him drenched in blood, dead by mine or someone else’s hands and it terrifies me so. I can’t lose him, he means everything to me. He's a pious man, who I know worships the ground you walk on, as do I. I know I’m probably asking for a lot, especially since you helped me find_ _Lonato_ _, but now I need you now, more than ever before. So, I’m begging you, please..._

_Please don’t take my father away from me._

He felt someone’s hand gently grip his shoulder. “Ashe?” He nearly jumped in surprise, before seeing Ingrid loom above him. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

His voice was shaking from being startled. “Oh, no, don’t worry about that, I was almost done, anyway. Is there any reason you wanted to see me?” 

She lightly nodded her head and smiled beautifully towards him. “Actually, yes. I know that the past few days have been really rough on you, and I was just wondering if you wanted to do anything, later? My treat?” 

“I—really, thanks!” Ashe beamed back at her. “Though I don’t exactly have many ideas, at the moment.” 

“Well, there’s this jous—” Before she could continue, her stomach rumbled loud enough for the whole monastery to hear, and her face exploded in red. 

“Maybe I could make you something to eat?” 

She wildly shook her head and hands. “No, I want to do something for you. It wouldn’t be right if I made you cook for me.” 

Ashe pushed himself up and gave her a reassuring look. “Actually, I think cooking could help distract me, for a little bit. I’d be really happy to cook for you.” 

Ingrid’s blush deepened in color and the corners of her lips reluctantly raised. “I... guess that would be fine. Thanks.” 

* * *

“Here it is, Ingrid.” Ashe gleefully placed the numerous, scorching plates down on the dining table, each one wafting a delicious aroma and steaming from having just been cooked. 

The look on Ingrid’s face was almost otherworldly, never before had Ashe seen someone so happy to look at a few plates of food. The slightest bit of saliva hung on her bottom lip, her eyes widened to epic proportions, and her mouth stretched open in awe and joy. “You made all of _this_?” 

Ashe’s grin widened to match hers. “Yep! It helps that Petra gathered a bunch of fresh meat, while she was hunting, and Professor Byleth gave them more than enough fish. Feel free to dig in!” 

“I... you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” Her breathing was shaky, she could visibly barely contain her excitement. 

The young chef shook his head as he took off his apron. “Nonsense! I know you love a good meal, and I like cooking for people. So please, eat as much as you like.” 

With that, Ingrid couldn’t restrict herself any longer and immediately started for the King of Beasts Steak, devouring it in seconds, before ripping into Fisherman’s Bounty. She looked inconceivably happy, as she went from one dish to the next. The way she looked, delighted as she was for his food, was very adora— 

He smacked himself in the face, while she wasn’t looking, trying to stop that thought as he could feel his own face heat up. 

_STOP IT_.

After Ingrid had downed yet another plate of food, she handed one full of Sacred Beast Roast over to Ashe. “Come on, you should at least have some of what you made. I’m not about to have you let me eat all of this.” 

Ashe lightly grinned as he began to eat his dish at a far slower rate than her. 

“How did you learn to cook like this?” Ingrid pondered as she moved another plate away. 

“You actually have my late father to thank for that. He owned a restaurant, and in the little time we were together, he taught me a good deal on how to make a meal. And when I had to fend for my siblings, I’d often work in other pubs and such, to make ends meet. While I lived with Lonato, I also got to work with the head chef there. If there’s one thing I can take pride in, it’s my cooking, at least.” 

However, just as soon as he’d finished his sentence, the memories of his time with Lonato began to flood into his mind. 

The lovely glutton’s joy quickly faded to reveal a deep remorse. “I’m sorry, I was supposed to help you forget about that.” 

Ashe immediately saw the concern in her eyes and soon moved his arms around in a panic. “no, no, no, it’s all right. You were just asking me a question.” He softened his voice. “And if it means anything. You helped me forget about that, for a little while, Ingrid, thank you.” 

However, her worry for him would not waver. “There’s no need to thank me, all I did was get you to cook for me...” 

In an instant, Ashe found another idea. “Well, hey, maybe instead of talking about me, we can talk about you. What’s your family like, Ingrid?” 

“It’s...” As it turns out, that idea of Ashe’s wasn’t so brilliant. “Currently we’re struggling a bit, financially. Our land’s not as fertile as it was, and since I’m the only one in my family with a crest...” She gave a sigh of resignation. “My father is trying to set me up with someone who can provide for us. He means well, but...” Her voice trailed off, her face tightening. “So, I know this is a bit grim, but you know about Glenn, right?” 

His heart sank like a rock in the ocean. “You mean your fiancé? Yeah, I heard all about that, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not like you had anything to do with it.” Her eyes began to well up a bit. “He was... everything to me, we were engaged for years, but—” She wiped the tears out of her eyes and took a deep, quivering breath. “Anyway, after that, my family didn’t have an immediate suitor for me, so for the past few years, my father’s been tirelessly looking for someone that I could marry, but no such luck. Now we need to find someone and fast, otherwise, it’s unlikely Galatea territory will survive, much longer.” 

Ingrid replaced her somber demeanor with a friendly smile. “Apologies, I somehow turned trying to cheer _you_ up into talking about _my_ problems.” 

“No, never, ever feel ashamed about that.” Ashe’s voice nearly raised out a shout of concern. “You also had a hard life because of the Tragedy, it seems a lot of us from Faerghus had.” He beamed at her with his usual optimism. “And even so, that doesn’t mean we can’t strive to make something better, right? We _are_ trying to become knights, after all.” 

Ingrid’s face warmed up to him, though it slightly betrayed the look in her eyes. “I guess you’re right about that. Thanks, Ashe. It’s nice being able to talk about this without, well...” 

“Is it the Felix thing?” He wondered aloud. 

“Yes, you could say that, though this isn’t the first time something like that happened.” She frantically shook her head. “Regardless, I really appreciated this. Not only that, but I hadn’t had food like this in, well, forever.” She started nervously playing with her side bangs. “I wasn’t particularly dignified, I’m aware.” 

“I’m just glad you enjoyed it!” He smiled to her. “And if you’d like, maybe we could do this again, some time? 

Ingrid nodded her head rapidly as she lit up brighter than the sun, itself. “Yes. Definitely. _Please_.” 

Ashe laughed quietly in amusement, before looking down at the empty plates. “Care for any dessert?” 

“I don’t think I should hold you u...” Once she saw the knowing look Ashe gave, she quickly relented any sense of personal restraint. “I’d like some sweet buns, if that’s not too much.” 

Ashe gave a kindly expression to her and quickly sprung up from his seat. “Understood, sweet buns, coming up!” 

* * *

Felix began to dance around Ferdinand, sword in hand, waiting for the perfect opening to attack. Another fiasco like a couple weeks before just wouldn’t do, he would end this quickly and with little trouble. 

Ferdinand, for his part, constantly darted around the arena, watching Felix’s every move. It was essentially a game of chicken, each combatant waiting to see who would strike first. It was as agonizing as it was invigorating. At least, as invigorating as two men battling with wooden weapons can be, anyway. 

Byleth stood by a nearby pillar, observing the two of them. Ferdinand was basically forced to ask for permission for their duel, and the professor was there to make sure neither of them would do any harm, hence why they are also stuck using pale imitations of weapons, to take each other down. 

Felix slowly closed in as he encircled the orange-haired noble, closing in ever-so-slightly, so as not to let him escape. He saw Ferdinand move to a more offensive position as he tense and with that, the swordsman quickly leapt into the fray, letting loose a powerful, wrathful strike. 

Ferdinand swiftly evaded and prepared to stab Felix with his pike, but now that he’d grown accustomed to his foes moves after last time, Felix predicted this and gripped the lance with his inner elbow, locking Ferdinand in place. He quickly used his remaining arm and legs to slam a flurry of powerful blows as the prime minister’s heir could do little to evade. Felix let go of Ferdinand and struck him with his sword, but as it was like hitting him with a children’s toy, the latter was able to quickly collect himself. 

Ferdinand jumped backwards and surrounded himself with the earthly aura of his Minor Cichol Crest, reeling up his lance and tightening his body. Felix flipped away from him in alarm. The last time that crest activated, he was on the receiving end of multiple slashes, and he wasn’t about to let that happen twice. 

“Felix, good technique. Great job exercising caution.” Byleth coolly announced. “Ferdinand, keep an eye on any openings you give him. The more you move around, the more opportunities you give him and the more you exhaust yourself. Ease up on your posture, too, you’re getting too rigid.” 

Ferdinand nodded back to her. “Understood. Felix, I hope you’re ready for the splendor of the von Aegir family!” 

Felix audibly gagged. “Again, with this. Shut up about your family, already, and fight!” He rushed toward him once more, and Ferdinand gave a smug smirk, swinging his lance with the force of a raging tempest. Felix weaved backwards, but all went to the carrot-topped lancer’s plan, as the struck the earth right by the swordsman's feet, and small spires of rock erupted from the earth, anchoring his feet to the ground. Ferdinand took the opportunity to quickly nip at Felix's ankles, covering them in even more rocks, locking his entire lower body in place.

Through the corner of his eye, the swordsman saw Byleth giving... was that a smirk, he saw? 

**_Since when did she start getting so smug?_ **

Ferdinand rushed Felix at full tilt, releasing an unrelenting barrage of thrusts at full blast. Felix shifted his body around in what little ways that he could, taking the strikes away from vital areas, and letting less vulnerable parts of his body absorb the blows. Even so, however, his rival’s attacks were noticeably weaker than usual, and less precise, at that. Minor crests are far harder to draw power from than major crests, and Ferdinand was deeply paying the price, for abusing it at such a rapid pace. 

Felix sensed this and once he could move again, shoved Ferdinand’s attacking arm out of the way, sending him backwards with one forceful kick. 

Ferdinand, noticing he was losing control, created another barrier between them and tried to escape, desperate to catch his breath. 

Felix, however, wouldn’t give him the chance and flipped over the spires, catching up to him in short manner, as the lancer’s breathing became extremely deep and fast. The stoic fighter took his chance and released an onslaught of less powerful, but still fearsome strikes. Ferdinand dodged a few, but not every last one, and stumbled backwards, running on fumes. 

Felix swiped his leg underneath Ferdinand’s and knocked him to the floor. And before a repeat of their last duel could happen, he jumped right on top of him, placing his wooden brand by Ferdinand’s throat, birthing a small grin. “I win.” 

“All right, you two. That’s enough.” Byleth called out to them, calmly walking over. 

Felix lifted Ferdinand up with a cocky smirk on his face, which the latter responded with an earnest smile of his own. “I have to hand it to you, I never thought you’d use your crest like that.” 

“You have my thanks.” The amicable noble radiated an excited aura. “I knew you would find a way to work around taking contact with my crest. So, I decided to use my crest to work around you. If only I could have finished you off, right then and there...” 

“You got a bit excited, Ferdinand.” Byleth bluntly butted in. “It was a good plan to trap him in, like that, but you didn’t see him blocking any weak points. You’re focusing too much on laying into him and not putting enough thought into where to hit or how much stamina you have left.” 

“I—I understand, teacher.” He bowed to her in equal parts respect and embarrassment. 

“Still, you were really using your head, with your crest, like that.” She pridefully upturned her lips once more. “Seems I’ve been teaching you well.” 

**_Is this really the same woman? Not two weeks ago she’d acted stiff as a board. She’s still subdued, but where did she start picking up this emotion, all of a sudden?_ **

As Ferdinand took her compliments in stride, the mercenary turned her head to the Blue Lion. “You’ve really picked up on mixing grapples in with your sword attacks, Felix. Someone’s learned from our ‘fight’ at the beginning of the year. Nice work, kiddo.” 

“I’d appreciate less of the ‘kiddo’ stuff, but thanks.” He replied, slightly flustered and thrilled at the same time. “I’ll keep getting stronger, just you watch.” 

She quietly chuckled. “I’m hoping for it. Wouldn’t want each fight we have to end in five seconds, now would we?” 

A feeling of competitive rigor swelled in Felix, and his face changed to an extremely cocky, assured disposition. “Quite the arrogant one, aren’t you? I can’t say it isn’t earned. However...” He cracked his knuckles. “If you think I still can’t—” 

In an instant, he found himself flat on the earth as Byleth knelt over him with his own sword right beside his nape. “Oh, and one more thing—just because you take down one opponent, that doesn’t mean you can let your guard down, when their comrades are around.” She leaned her face right in front of his. “You still have a long way to go, Felix.” 

Once shock from being blindsided wore off, Felix let out a croaking, bitter laugh. “It would seem so. That was quite the dirty trick, but yet again, I should’ve learned my lesson watching you fight, over a month ago.” 

The professor’s tiny smirk resurfaced and she yanked him back up by the collar. “At least you’re not a sore loser, then.” Her grin faded away back into her usual blankness. “So, how’s Ashe holding up? I hear he’s coming along to fight his old man. Is he doing alright?” 

Felix gave a beleaguered, worried sigh. “I haven’t spoken much to him. He’s apparently been hanging out at the cathedral, mostly. Probably praying that nothing goes wrong, but Lonato’s a knight, and they cherish death, so I don’t exactly have faith things won’t get ugly.” 

Ferdinand grimaced. “Lord Lonato... how dare he shatter the peace! Endangering the common folk like that. I only hope Ashe do—” 

“Shut the hell up.” Felix barked as his face contorted with disgust, taking the two Black Eagles aback. “Don’t pretend this is just ‘shattering the peace,’ there’s obviously something else going on, here. And don’t start hoping the kid doesn’t try make sure his dad gets slaughtered.” 

“He started a rebellion, Felix! He put people’s lives on the line. And I heard Ashe—” 

“Put his body in between Seteth and Lonato like an idiot, I know.” Felix crossed his arms. “Faerghus hasn’t been stable in years, something was bound to happen, since the boar won’t just take the throne, until he thinks he’s old enough. I don’t know the full details of the rebellion, myself, but that lord seems to have plenty reason to not like the church.” 

“Felix!” Ferdinand’s eyes widened with horror. “What you’re implying is outright heresy!” 

“Who cares? It’s not like I’m going to walk up and shout at the archbishop to stop killing Lonato, I’m not about to throw my life away like those dumbass knights.” His aggravation was quickly increasing. “But he seems to be fighting for his own reasons, not because someone is making him. At least he has the balls to make his own decisions, and not subject himself to following someone who he can’t stand. Makes him a damn sight better than the rest of the knights in Faerghus. And I don’t think it’s unreasonable for someone to not want their family culled like wild animals!” 

Before the two could start another fight, Byleth placed her arms in between the both of them. “That’s enough, both of you.” She turned to Ferdinand. “Instead of making sure he pays, let’s just hope we can protect as many people as possible. Limit the bloodshed, you know?” 

“I—” The prime minister’s heir collected himself with a red glow on his face. “You’re right. You have a kind soul, Professor. Now I feel a little sheepish for showing anger and not empathy. I apologize for my impetuousness.” 

“And Felix...” He immediately stiffened his posture. “I get that this is probably really personal for you, but—” 

“It’s not personal, I just think Ferdinand should learn to keep his mouth shut.” Felix snarled. “I don’t care for Lonato using his citizens for his dirty work, but I’m not going to pass the blame to some kid, let alone his.” He turned his glare back to his fellow noble. “I imagine you wouldn’t be feeling so ready to kill if it was Duke Aegir who pulled this crap.” 

For as much as he wanted to deny it, Felix’s blood was boiling, with his limbs shaking and his face scarlet in rage. Curt responses are usually what he’s good at, arguably to a fault, but getting legitimately furious was a foreign feeling, to him. That didn’t stop him from clenching his fists, moments away from introducing them to Ferdinand’s skull. 

Ferdinand, meanwhile, appeared immensely offended at the prospect. “My father would do no such thing! He’s admittedly... not a wonderful person, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt the people under his rule. He wouldn’t send innocents to die for some agenda!” 

They got increasingly closer, neither would budge an inch as their grimaces contorted to greater fury. At least, until Byleth yanked the two apart, gripping the pressure points in their shoulders. 

“Knock it off.” 

She let them go as the two nobles stumbled backward, away from each other. “You two need to calm the hell down.” She pointed to the opposite side of the training grounds. “Felix.” 

Felix grunted and marched to the other side with Byleth, waiting for an earful. 

“Learn to hold back a little, okay?” She plead, still as monotone as ever. “Just... I know you have strong opinions about this. As you seem to with pretty much everything.” 

Before he could interject, Byleth put her hand out in front of her. “Let me finish. It’s fine that you feel the way you do. I don’t know much about the situation myself, I’m just pointed at something and told to fight, it’s what I do. But you need to learn to use some restraint, screaming matches aren’t gonna do anything but make everyone involved angry. Just—please don’t start an actual fistfight with my students, all right?” 

He cleared his throat and breathed in deeply. “Fine. I’ll try to tolerate him. Only because I respect your strength, though. Not because I care about his feelings.” 

She let out a small, croaking chuckle. “Fine, I guess that’ll do, for now. Thanks.” She turned away and as she moved out to the exit, she called out to him. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Try not to lose it by screaming it off at others, will you?” 

Felix tried to hide the ever-growing blush as he crossed his arms, scowling ahead. He went to grab a real blade and continue his training, alone and undisturbed. Just how he likes it. 

* * *

Later on, in the week, Ashe found himself back in the infirmary, with new bandages and ointments all over his body, having been on the receiving end of playtime with Beithir, once again. 

As Manuela placed the last bandage on Ashe’s face, she lightly grinned at him. “So, same time next week?” 

Ashe sheepishly chortled. “I guess so. I’m really sorry that I keep ending up in here. I know you must have many other responsibilities.” 

Manuela dismissively waved her hand. “Oh, hush! You’re fine. Apparently that wyvern has a history of being quite the rascal. Trust me, this isn’t the first year we’ve had a student constantly coming and going from here, from every day with him. And besides, it’s nice having some company. Seiros knows no other man would be kind enough to give me some company...” 

The nurse grumbled to herself as Ashe could only sit there, awkwardly. 

“Anyway, now that I have you all patched up, you may be on your way.” She waved as she went to tend to Lorenz, who came down with a nasty stomach illness. Apparently, there was something in the last thing he drank... 

As he approached the steps, however, he found Edelgard, as imposing as ever, in spite of her tiny frame. “Hello, Ashe. How are you feeling?” 

He smiled at her, placing a hand behind his head. “I’m feeling better, thank you. I think I’m actually building up a resistance to Beithir’s flames. I guess I have ‘durable against fire’ as a plus in combat, now.” 

She quickly giggled before reverting to a static expression. “No, I mean emotionally. You told Hubert to tell me you didn’t feel right about what you did, on your mission?” 

“I...” Ashe’s eyes darted to the floor. “Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private, could we?” 

She nodded her head as they made their way to an empty room by the cardinal’s chambers. 

When they got there, Ashe slumped in a nearby seat. “Well, I assume you already know what happened at Rhodos, as well as what my adoptive father is doing.” 

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, unfortunately.” Her eyes softened and drooped, bearing an empathic pain. “I heard the ensuing battle was also quite... vicious, to say the least.” 

“You could say that again.” A layer of salty water stung his eyes. “I... you had a point about me not knowing what I was fighting for. All I knew was there were tensions building at the coast, but I never expected to—no, I already sort of did, but I was hoping I wouldn’t...” He sniffled and tried to relax his breathing. “I killed someone, during that mission, someone scared out of her mind. I was on the receiving end of her attacks, granted, but I’d also pursued her when I really shouldn’t have. And then Lonato came... and you probably know the rest.” 

“I do.” She nodded with a voice full of a peculiar regret. “I know that the first kill is... particularly terrifying. Watching someone die, right in front of you is never a good feeling. And to have your father be made helpless against—” She shook her head and harshened her expression. “Not only that, but you’re being sent to fight him on the church’s behalf. I take it that idea doesn’t sit well with you?” 

“No, not at all. I was told that I’m allowed to try and quell the situation peacefully, but whether that’s actually possible is a different story.” 

“Call me cynical, but I don’t have faith that the church will simply let his actions slide, even with a peaceful surrender.” The princess angrily spat. “I’m sorry, this can’t be a pleasant time, for you. That said, what will you do, when the time comes to confront him?” 

The boy sat in silent contemplation for several moments, each feeling like an eternity. “I really don’t know. Considering how mad he got over me, he’ll hopefully hear me out, if I can make it to him first, but I just can’t tell what will happen. I’ve never seen him get this furious, before. He’s normally so patient, so kind, so considerate. And this whole time—this whole time I didn’t even know the depths of his anger. I guess part of this is my fault, for not realizing it.” 

“There are some people who keep their feelings locked up, away from everyone else.” She softly replied. “You can talk to someone you’ve known for years, and they still have to keep their emotions hidden. It could be for the sake of hiding their goals, not wanting to derail their objective through stray passion—whatever the reason is, no matter how close you are to someone, there are just some things they won’t tell you, regardless of their thoughts of you.” 

“I guess you’re right...” Ashe’s eyes flitted towards the carpet below him. “Still, this whole time I didn’t know how much he’d really been hurting, and if I can’t do something to save him—I don’t know what I’ll be able to do with myself.” He gulped for air as his distraughtness began to take over. “I can’t let him die, I can’t let this be his end, but am I even be able to do anything? Will I just make it worse?” 

He looked right back up to Edelgard. “Even now, I don’t even fully know what I’m getting myself into. And considering how the past mission went, I’m terrified by what could happen next. You’re smarter than me, Lady Edelgard, do you have any idea what I can do?” 

She held her elbows in her hands and soberly angled her brow. “I’m not sure myself, either. I have my own opinions on whether the church will allow it, but my question is this: do you truly believe that what you’re trying to do is right? Are you willing to put yourself into this situation? Even if you might be at odds with the world around you?” 

“Yes.” He stood straight up. “If I can’t save him, then I’ll be devastated, but I’d feel even more horribly if I just did nothing. Even if I end up failing miserably, even if I end up falling in his place, even if I risk everything—including where I stand—I’ll give whatever shot I can, no matter what’s in my way, so long as I have even a chance of keeping Lonato alive.” 

The Adrestian lightly smiled, speaking with a commanding presence. “So long as you think you’re doing the right thing, I guess that’s all I can ask for.” She began to walk away, saying this to him, “Ashe, I can’t be fully certain on what will happen, but I commend that you’re doing this for yourself, not because it’s an order. I was worried this was something you were pressured into.” 

“It wasn’t.” He cheerfully replied, tightening his stance. “If I can keep anyone in my family safe, I’ll go through the eternal flames and back, to do so.” He nervously smiled towards the princess. “And Edelgard? Thank you for not holding back on me—this time or the last. I ‘m still not sure what exactly I’m to do about... questionable orders, but I know at least that even if he’s condemned by everyone around him, I’ll do everything in my power to save him. Regardless of the punishment.” 

She looked back at him with eyes widened in shock, before proudly grinning at him. “Hmph. It seems you’ve taken some of my words at heart. I must say, I was worried about what you’d do, after our talk before your mission, but you’ve seemed to grown a lot of resolve. I hope that, even in spite of all of this, you’ve at least come to understand your wants, even more.” 

Edelgard left with a smile on her face as Ashe took a deep breath and walked out as well, with a fire lit within him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- While Rhea is clearly lying here, I should be upfront that don’t truly think of her as some evil mastermind, even in CF (and in WC I see her more as just acting amorally, rather than straight-up dragon Satan), but she’s definitely got an agenda of keeping people from rebelling/is very much driven by a lot of her issues and desires, and for Ashe to join, I’ll have to lean into that. 
> 
> \- One thing I don’t think a lot of people notice about Ashe is just how religious he is. He doesn’t really bring it up, but I noticed he spends a *lot* of time in the cathedral, mainly in White Clouds, when he’s not in/by the greenhouse/pond. And despite his relationship with the church, he's neutral in faith, not great nor terrible, which I think kind of implies his complicated relationship with the church, after Magdred Way. It's kind of heart wrenching, yet understandable, that his faith would get shaken, because of that. 
> 
> \- Remember when I said I was having a hard time figuring out what to do with Ferdinand’s earth crest? Thankfully, I found a (ludicrous) idea for how he can immobilize someone, even when he doesn’t connect with it. I really want to lean into the elemental aspects of crests (well, Dragon Signs, but same difference) to help spice up fights, and I’m actually really happy I found something, even if it’s a bit ridiculous. Then again, my other action scenes are already kind of absurd and will only get more absurd, anyway, so why stop now, right?


	10. Lingering Pasts

The next few weeks for Ashe had been nothing less than grueling and completely physically exhausting. When he wasn’t in class or the cathedral, he was going full blast on his training, constantly running laps at maximum intensity to ramp up his speed and endurance, desperately making sure he can reach Lonato before the church does, when the time comes. And when he wasn’t sprinting or running a borderline marathon, he was training with Caspar, trying to improve his close-quarters combat and axe skills. 

As for how well that’s been going for him, well... at the moment, he found himself launched into the air, via an uppercut from Caspar, flying back a few feet.

Ashe loudly groaned as he felt his jaw nearly get dislodged from his face. “Okay, I need a minute...” He then walked over to a nearby column rest his now-aching back against. 

Caspar squatted right next to Ashe, his eyes incredibly wide in concern. “You feeling okay, buddy?” 

“Yeah, I just need to relax, for a moment. My jaw nearly broke, right there.” He began to massage his jaw. 

The bruiser nervously laughed and rubbed the back of his cyan hair. “Sorry about that... I guess I got a bit carried away.” 

Ashe waved him off with his other hand. “No, that’s fine, if I can't take a punch to the face, I won’t be good for anything. Again, I’ll be up in a few.” 

Caspar plopped right on the ground next to him. “So, you think you’re ready for this?” 

“I honestly have no clue.” Ashe sighed, looking at his feet. “I’ve been working my hide off for weeks, and I’m not convinced I’ve made nearly enough progress.” 

Caspar genially smacked his friend’s back. “Hey, you’re doing a lot better than when you started training with me! Last week, you couldn’t even land a punch on me, and now you can actually get a few licks in... before I nearly shattered your face... And hey! You’re still around as good as me with an axe.” 

Ashe gave a small, reluctant chuckle. “I guess so... That said, I can’t let this be my strongest. If I don’t get strong enough in the next week or so, then I won’t be able to save anyone.” He shook his head forcefully. “Sorry, I keep getting so worked up, when you’re just trying to help out.” 

Caspar cheerfully grinned at him. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re about to fight your dad, I’d be surprised if you weren’t a little nervous. I could only imagine having to fight my father...” His eyes widened in terror at the sheer thought. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t more excited to battle Lonato, yourself. I thought you would’ve been excited to take him down, for having our people fight with him.” Ashe snarked, playfully bumping Caspar’s shoulder. “What was it you said to me before? ‘How else do I expect to get rid of evil in this world if we don’t take it out ourselves,’ I think it was?” 

“I mean, it’s a little bit different when we’re talking your dad, man!” Caspar defensively shouted, while the archer softly laughed. 

“Well, regardless, I’m really thankful for your help. I need all of it that I can get.” 

Caspar wrapped his arm behind Ashe’s neck. “Don’t mention it! Besides, I need some training that won’t end in me getting manhandled, for once!” 

Ashe grinned and raised his eyebrows. “So training where _I_ get manhandled is better?” 

The short loudmouth met him with a grin of his own. “Hey, I already told you that you’re getting better, so you’ll eventually end up on even footing! Probably. I think.” 

Ashe let out a low chortle. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. So, how’s everybody in the Black Eagles class reacting to this whole mess?” 

“Hoo boy.” Caspar leaned his head back, using his fingers to count each member of his class. “Let’s see, Edelgard and Hubert don’t seem to bothered, while Petra seems more confused, than anything. Linhardt is more just grossed out by maybe seeing some blood, Ferdinand is really angry about it, Dorothea doesn’t seem thrilled, Bernadetta’s scared, but she's always sort of scared, anyway...” He moved his head back to its original spot, placing a hand on his chin. “And Professor Byleth is... weird. She seems kinda concerned—I think—but she also seems... she doesn’t really seem to be complaining, either.” 

“I’m sorry that you all were caused so much trouble.” Ashe’s eyes moved to the tiles below. 

“Hey, you don’t need to worry about that, trust me, I know a thing or two about my dad hurting people, myself...” Caspar quickly shook before he could finish. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but you don’t seem real happy about this, so why would I lay into _you_ about it?” 

“I...” Ashe opened up a timid smile. “Thank you, Caspar.” 

“Don’t mention it!” Caspar mugged as he flexed his bicep, holding his other hand on top of it. “And if anyone tries to tell you that this is your fault, I’ll beat their faces in, for ya!” 

“You really only think of punching someone’s lights out, do you?” 

“No!” The noble shouted, defensively. “I think about plenty of other things, I’m just not gonna let anyone get on your case, all right?” 

Ashe let out a loud, undignified laugh. “Well, thanks for that, Caspar.” He leapt back to his feet, rotating his shoulder. “Anyway, ready for round 2?” 

Caspar bolted right up, catching his fist with his other palm, before gesturing Ashe to come at him. “Bring it! Let’s see how long you can stay up, this time!” 

* * *

Another day, another agonizing session of weeding for Felix Hugo Fraldarius. It never ends. You move five feet, and suddenly the grass seems somehow taller than when you start. The fact that summer had nearly reared its ugly head only made it worse, making the grass grow faster and the temperatures keep rising. How the hell anyone could survive this weather for years on end, Felix will never know. 

Regardless, the day had finally ended, and he found himself collapsed on a bench near the dining hall. The heat at night was still oppressive, but going indoors would just make it worse, so Felix just sat there, trying to relax as much as he could against the unbearably hot Garland Moon night. A lot easier said than done, when the sun stays out well into the evening, during that time of year. 

“Hello, Felix. What are you doing at this hour?” A young man’s voice called out. 

The warrior squinted his eyes to see Dimitri standing idly by the cafeteria’s doors. “Oh, wonderful. The boar’s here.” 

“I see you’re still calling me that...” Dimitri whined. “Another day of weeding, huh?” 

“Unfortunately.” Felix clutched his head. “And unless you’re here to swap positions with me and take Sylvain off my hands, get out of here. I’m trying to relax.” 

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything. You’ve never been one to relax.” Dimitri mugged, a common gesture of his, when playing human. 

“If you don’t rest, now and again, you’re just crippling yourself. Now if you don’t have anything better to say...” He pointed his thumb behind him. “Go.” 

“As approachable as ever, I see...” The prince groaned. “You know, a little conversation won’t kill you, Felix.” 

“With you, yes it would. What do you want, anyway?” 

Dimitri rubbed his shoulder anxiously. “How are you holding up? I’ve noticed you haven’t been around the training grounds nearly as much, and sometimes at night, when the... noise from Sylvain’s room isn’t being particularly loud, I could swear I hear you cry—” 

“Shut up.” Felix growled, rising from the bench. “And for that matter, it’s none of your concern. I don’t converse with wild animals, especially not those whose only real emotion is excitement for slaughter.” 

“Do you ever get tired of saying those things, to me?” Dimitri shouted. “I’m just asking how you were doing. And I’m fairly certain you hadn’t seen me ‘loving every second of it,’ as of late. In fact, I was trying to quell the last fight we were in through peaceful means, before you’d came in.” 

“Oh, great, now the boar prince wants to talk to me about trying to be peaceful.” The swordsman scrunched his nose in disgust. “I’ll give you a bit of credit, you almost conducted yourself like a real person. But that doesn’t change what I saw, back in Galatea territory. That doesn’t change the glee in your face as you ripped people apart, whether it was with your lance or your bare hands. You have everyone else in this monastery fooled, but I’ve seen that mask of yours slip. I can’t trust you won’t do that again, no matter how well you hide it, now.” 

The royal heir said nothing, keeping his eyes away from Felix. 

“Cat got your tongue, or have you just remembered that animals aren’t able to speak?” Felix’s voice began to shake. “I’ll never forget the horror I felt that day, the looks on the faces of those you eviscerated, the geyser of insides you released all over the place. I couldn’t stomach the sight of it, let alone that it was by the man I called friend...” His breaths became heavy and unstable as he marched over to Dimitri, viciously scowling at him. “Let’s get this out of the way, right now, I will _never_ confide in you. You couldn’t possibly understand—a boar would never understand how a human being could feel. All you know is glorifying murder, like everyone else in Faerghus, but at least they have the decency of glorifying their own deaths than the culling of others.” 

“Don’t lecture me about glorifying death, it’s revolting, an abomination, nothing good can come from it,” Dimitri gutturally growled. “Do you think that I _enjoy_ that I lost myself like that? You have no right to tell me how I enjoy death, you have no idea what I’ve seen, no idea the atrocities I had to bear. You weren’t even there at Duscar, like I—” 

In that moment, Felix’s control over himself slipped, and then grabbed Dimitri by the collar. “You want to tell me that I don’t know that the deaths in Duscar were terrible? That those mutts killed my brother? You want to tell me about who hates the deaths in the Tragedy, don’t tell it to the man who had to hear from his father about how it was ‘knightly,’ the way that he died. I saw the look n his face, the fear in his eyes, like he was screaming in horror before getting butchered.” 

“And I saw him die, _I_ saw his agony, firsthand. I heard his voice and my father’s, as they were slaughtered.” Dimitri snarled, bearing his fangs. “I care about you, Felix, but I won’t hear you tell me that I fetishize death, when I had to hear my loved ones’ pleas to be saved and when they begged for revenge.” His voice grew just as mad and shaky as Felix’s. “The only deaths I look forward to are those who hurt the people I love, and I’ll admit that my conduct was terrible, but I don’t desire the heads of every damn person I come across! Maybe if you were actually there, you’d understand _—”_

“ _Don’t_. _Dare_.” The fighter’s rage reached its boiling point. “I had to see my brother’s mangled skull come home to the sound of my father praising his death, so go to Hell. I understand plenty how terrible that was, I don’t care about how much _you_ were haunted by that, because guess what? We all were. But you don’t see me grinning like a maniac every time I kill someone. I fight to get stronger, not get my jollies by making people suffer.” He released the house leader and scoffed. “I don’t know why I even bother, with you. You’re not someone who can be reasoned with, you aren’t even a someone, to begin with. Go back to having fun with your killings, like those monsters in Duscar. Clearly, you’re just like th—” 

“ _THAT’S ENOUGH_!” Dimitri became shrouded in his Crest’s azure sparks and lifted Felix by the throat, nearly caving in his esophagus, in the process. 

In that moment, he saw the pure, unfiltered hatred in the boar’s glowing, bloodshot eyes. Veins popped by his temples, his teeth looked like sharpened canines, and Dimitri released an animalistic bark. His true, monstrous self had finally emerged, and the fear of the goddess was put into Felix in that instant, as he struggled to breathe. He gripped onto the royal’s bulging arms, trying to pry himself off. 

Just as soon as Dimitri had strangled Felix, he let him go, reverting back to his façade, his voice tainted with a show of worry. “Felix... I’m sorry, I lost—” 

Felix gagged and coughed, before bitterly laughing as he pulled himself from the ground, massaging his neck. “Look at that, the creature inside finally came out. And here you were, trying to convince me you could be tamed...” He brushed his shoulder against Dimitri, walking back to his dorm while he continued to hack and wheeze. “If you ever try anything like that again, you better pray that it kills me.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I...” Dimitri remained at a loss for words, as Felix left the scene, holding back his turbulence to himself. 

Once he’d reached his room and collapsed in his bed, Felix nearly broke down in his terror. It’s one thing to see the slaughter happen in to other people, but it’s completely different to almost be on the receiving end of... whatever _that thing_ was. 

Sleep was basically impossible, as Felix could only think about that one moment as he trembled throughout the night, unable to calm down for even a second. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the ravenous eyes of a beast about to cull its prey. 

* * *

Only a small handful of days remained until Ashe was to confront his father, and his emotional state only grew more and more panicked and frenzied. His movements were incredibly jumpy, he constantly found himself bolting from one training session to the next, his speech kept turning into frightened mutters and he often found himself praying, begging that this blows over without any tragedy. What little sleep he could get was plagued by visions and nightmares of the worst possible outcome, and yet even in his exhaustion, Ashe still was practically darting all over the place, somehow. 

He kept frantically reading through the stock of tales he borrowed from the library, but all that did was remind him of Lonato, so using that to escape was predictably a bust. 

Ashe heard a loud knocking on his door. “Um, Ashe?” 

He nearly ripped the doorknob off, as he frantically fiddled with it to get a simple door to open up. Ashe found Byleth standing with her arms crosed, holding her elbows with her hands, and she looked slightly uncomfortable and concerned. “Sorry to interrupt what you were doing, but I realized we’re a bit low on stock, still, and was wondering if you wanted to come with? Petra told me about how you helped her with your haggling skills, and our funds still aren’t the best, so I could use your help.” 

“Uh...” Once he managed to process what she was saying, through his own hysterical behavior, he nodded to her wildly. “Y-yes, of course, I can help.” He soared out of his seat and Byleth put a hand on shoulder. 

“Hey, I get you’re worried, but take a deep breath, for a second.” Her voice was as calm as it ever was, though her delivery was considerably more natural and less... wooden, to put it bluntly. “I’ve seen you freaking out all over the place, you need to calm down. Getting all panicky isn’t going to do you or anyone else any good.” 

“R-right, sorry, professor.” He closed his eyes and floundered out an attempt at exhaling, which did somewhat calm him. _Somewhat_ being the key word. “Sorry, I know I must be causing a lot of trouble, acting out like that.” 

She gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s not why I’m telling you to chill out. I get it, you’re about to fight your dad, I can imagine that’s pretty scary. But if you don’t calm down, you’re only going to make things worse for yourself, and I don’t want you getting hurt, because you’re stressing out.” 

Ashe gulped and managed to squeeze out a real deep breath. “I—Understood, thank you.” 

The mercenary lightly chuckled. “Ever the serious one, huh? Come on, we’re burning daylight, right now.” 

Ashe went over to his desk. “Sure, just let me get some cash, just in case.” 

Byleth raised an eyebrow, staring at him in blank confusion. “Wha—you don’t need to help pay for this, I just need some help with keeping costs low.” 

Ashe dismissively waved at her. “If you all are off to fix my family’s problems, the least I can do is help with your funds.” 

She folded her arms. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know.” 

A guilty smile formed on Ashe’s face. “Trust me, I want to do this. I’d feel wrong, otherwise.” 

Byleth let out an exasperated groan, only to lightly nod at him. “All right, if you’re so insistent, but we’re using the class’s money before we touch yours, got it?” 

“Understood.” He pulled out a small sack of his monthly allowance and weakly smiled at Byleth. “Now then, shall we?” 

* * *

The shopping itself went surprisingly well, all things considered. Byleth’s relaxed, down-to-earth presence made bartering a lot easier for Ashe, instead of the constant mental flailing that’s been going on in his head, for the better part of a moon. In due time, most of the weapons, gear, and medical provisions had been taken care with little trouble. 

“Phew—shopping took longer than I thought.” Ashe cheerfully announced, holding an immense supply of vulneraries and defensive gear. 

“You’re telling me, that one shopkeep was so damn stubborn.” Byleth sighed, her hands full of several lances, shields, and axes. “But thanks to your bartering skills, we got him to actually sell without us needing to give up a limb. You’re quite the shopper, kid.” 

Ashe couldn’t help but blush at the praise. “It’s one of the few things I’m really good at. I've got a lot of experience, living in the city.” And just like that, his glee faded back to sobriety. “You can say that’s thanks to money being tight for me... at least until Lonato adopted me into his family.” 

Before his fears could consume him, Ashe rapidly shook his head and tried desperately to chance the subject. “Come to think of it, you were originally a mercenary, were you? You must have had a very different life from me, while you traveled all over Fodlan, and I just remained in the city.” 

“I don’t think it’s that different, actually.” She flatly replied. “I really haven’t lived like... well, almost anyone else here, really. I’ve never lived in some grand palace, or any of that junk. If my dad wasn’t spending money on weapons, camping gear and occasionally a night in a lodge, it would usually booze, which I’m guessing you’re already aware of.” 

Ashe turned his head away to avoid eye contact as Byleth let out an ever-so-slight chuckle. “Compared to everyone else, except maybe some of the Golden Deer, you and I have more in common, in how we lived. I heard from Dad that you worked at diners, and such?” 

He nodded as she went on. “Well, I often had to do some dirty work to make ends meet, myself. Though it was less cooking with chefs and more killing with swords and fists, but still, I know what it’s like to work to survive.” 

“You really think so?” The haggler incredulously asked. How in heaven or hell is this talented mercenary anything like a lowly thief, such as him? “But a mercenary's whole job is fighting, isn't it? Must be a pretty tough way to live—even tougher than what I had to go through.” 

“Well... I actually don’t know how I really felt about the whole thing. I was trained to fight and I did. Whenever I was told to punch or stab someone, I did, and that was that.” She looked down as her voice carried a bitter remorse. “I was even called, ‘the Ashen Demon,’ because of how little emotion I showed, when I killed someone. Heh, I guess you can say it’s almost like I didn’t have feelings one way or another, during my mercenary days.” 

Byleth’s somber look shifted to a subdued, yet upbeat smile. “That said, these past few months, I don’t know, but I’ve been feeling so... different, lately. I feel like I’m doing something that’s... meaningful, if I had to pin it down. It’s real nice, you know?” 

Ashe upturned his lips. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re enjoying what you’re doing, right now. I can’t say I’ve had experience not feel—ah!” 

As the two were talking, Ashe found a familiar book on the ground, and immediately his excitement grew. He gently placed the supplies down as he reached for the novel. “I had no idea they sold this book around here! I haven't seen this one for ages! All this time I thought I’d never find it again!” 

Byleth peered over his shoulder. “So, what is it? Some tale, I’m guessing?” 

“Yes!” He gleefully shouted. “It’s called Loog and the Maiden of Wind. It’s a well-known tale of chivalry, back in Faerghus. I loved this as a kid—it’s how I learned to read, actu—” 

“Gimme that book!” A young man in tattered clothes shouted as he ripped the book from Ashe’s hands and shoved him to the ground, fleeing the scene before the other two could even process what was going on. 

“What the—?! Somebody catch that thief! Cut him in half, like my prices!” Another voice cried out. Once Ashe got his bearings, he found a very angry shopkeep right in front of him, puffing her cheeks in fury. 

“Please calm down, ma’am.” He held his hands in front of her, trying to keep her relaxed. 

Said try did next to nothing, however. “You calm down, kid! If he gets away with that valuable merch, it'll be a huge loss for me! I can’t just go handing out my wares, I have to make a living!” 

“Well in that case...” Without thinking, he pulled out some of the extra money he had. “Here, let me compensate you, for this.” 

Byleth raised her brows. “Wait, are you sure about this, Ashe?” 

“Huh, are you seri—” And suddenly, the shopkeep placed her hands on her hips, as she wore a devious grin. “Actually, I’m going to need a _lot_ more than that. Remember last moon?” 

He took a second to understand her, but then he noticed the bright magenta ponytail she borne and gulped. “Oh—you’re Anna, right?” 

She nodded and her smirk grew ever-wider. “Yep, and I seem to recall you telling me about how another shop was selling their items at a cheaper price than what I was offering? Sneaky move, kid, but I went up to the place you were talking about. Turns out everything you told me was a load of pegasus dung. I just knew you were trying to scam me, and since you’re making such a _generous_ offer, you’re paying me back, you little punk.” 

Byleth’s eyes widened and she put herself between the two. “Wait, hold on a second, he—” 

“It’s fine, Professor.” Ashe begrudgingly pulled out an even larger amount of cash from his pouch. “There, will this be enough, for you?” 

Anna beamed as she hurriedly swiped the money from Ashe’s hands, letting out a low, smug chuckle. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” 

“All right, now I really have to get that thief to pay me back.” He sprinted off after the man, shouting back to Byleth. “I’m really sorry for leaving the supplies to you, Professor, but I have to stop him!” 

And by the time the instructor could even shout out to him, Ashe was already out of earshot. He rushed throughout the shopping center, looking over the broken vases and messy ground the ruffian left in his wake. 

The knightly boy dashed as fast as he legs would let him, and before long, the thief was in sight, breathing heavily. The thief noticed him immediately and started to bolt away, knocking a batch of weapons from an armory down on the floor. Ashe spiraled over the weapons with little issue, closing the gap with each passing second. 

The outlaw sprung away from the marketplace, making his way down an alley until he found himself trapped in between the walls of the monastery and his pursuer. Ashe continued to dash in, and the man whipped out a dagger, though his clumsy, desperate swings would do little to help him, and the knightly boy kicked off the side of another building, tackling him from above and holding his arms behind his back. 

Ashe pulled him upwards, still binding the man’s arms. Looking closer at him, he seemed in really rough shape—the skin that wasn’t covered in grime looked of a deathly pallor, and he was rail thin to such a borderline concerning degree that even his raggedy clothes couldn’t hide it, what with the gaping tears and holes, all throughout. The fear in his eyes was plain to see, and what was most concerning was that he seemed quite young, probably not much older than Mercedes, which made his pleas all the more disconcerting. “Look, please, I need this thing, I have a sick daughter!” 

And just like that, Ashe let him go with a sense of remorse, still taking the knife away, just in case. “Daughter? Wait, how old are you?” 

“I’m...” His pale white skin turned a mild pink. “Twenty-three. Yeah, I know, I’m a little young to be a dad, I get it. Made a lot of stupid decisions as a kid. Look at me, do I seem like the kind of guy who’d be doing this if I didn’t have to? I only got the stupid thing because it looked like it would cost a bit, I literally stole it to get some damn medicine, around here!” 

“But you do understand what you did was wrong, right?” Ashe tried to give a stern presence, but inside all the familiar emotions from his childhood came surging back. Everything from the nights he spent starving so Colin and Shauna could eat, stealing from nobles in order to sell them for a livable amount, spending the nights out in the cold in the same clothes he wore for weeks on end. All of it came back to haunt him and hindered any commanding air he could muster. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” The destitute man’s eyes began to flood with tears “I don’t make a lot and my partner’s been gone for a while, now, it’s not like I can pay for the crappy place we live in, food and medicine all at once, and if I get the medicine, the both of us are without either food or somewhere to sleep, what else could I have done?” 

Ashe’s heart grew immediately heavy and raced at very high speeds. 

_He could very well be lying, but..._

He stepped to the side, gesturing his arm out. “Go on ahead.” 

The thief nearly fell from disbelief, forming a massive, seemingly heartfelt smile. “Wha—really, kid?” 

Ashe nodded as a pained smile formed on his face. “Assuming you’re telling the truth, I’ve been where you’re at. Please hurry to her, all right.” 

The man nearly broke down as he passed by. “Thanks, kiddo, this means everything, to me.” 

Soon enough, the robber had vanished, and Ashe could only stand there, thinking solemnly to himself. 

_How many more people had to go through what I have? He can’t possibly be the only one. I can’t even fathom the amount of people in his situation, it never ends. Am I even able to—_

Ashe furiously shook his head, as a dark chill went down his spine. 

_I have to do what I can to keep this from happening to anyone else, if I can’t, what’s the point of me even being here?_

He walked back through the market, helping the armory keep put her weapons back up, before making his way back to the center of the monastery, tormented with thoughts of people like that thief. People that have been hurting like Ashe for even longer than he had, and continuing to suffer as the days go by. 

_Even so, is a future where I can end this even possible? Once I become the knight I want to be, I most likely can’t save everyone off the street. Is there a way where this can truly stop?_

And as he continued onward, any semblance of comfort he was feeling before was quickly eroding, his mind taken up by even more worries than before. 

* * *

“All right, class, that will be all for today.” Hanneman closed the book in his hands, after a particularly long and boring lesson. 

As the class rose to their feet, Hanneman walked over to Ashe, gently placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Ashe, I wish you the best of luck on your mission, tomorrow. I can only pray that you and your father make it out safe.” 

He nodded and halfheartedly smiled at the kindly old professor. “Thank you, Prof. Hanneman. I hope so as well.” 

Without missing a beat, he grabbed his books and hurried on out, faster than anyone else in the room. Everything about his movement screamed tense, between his hurried shuffles and the stomping of his feet. He was a complete mess of a man, and Felix had a feeling it would only get worse, at this rate. 

Felix looked on with a melancholic expression, before finding Ingrid standing by his desk. “Hey, Felix, I need someone to train with, today, want to spar for a bit.” 

“Not right now.” He barked as he rose from his chair. 

Ingrid immediately placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Training is basically all you do.” 

Felix slapped her hand away from his face. “Knock it off, I just have something to do, at the moment.” He looked over to Hanneman, who was packing his things, and shifted his gaze back to her almost immediately. “Look, just give me... forty minutes. That should give you enough time to stuff your face, before we spar.” 

“I don’t stuff my—” And almost as if it were on cue, her stomach began to loudly rumble, making her blush furiously. “See you in forty.” And soon she bolted out of the room almost as fast as Ashe did. If there’s one thing you can count on Ingrid for, it’s always finding the time to get monstrously hungry. 

After that, Felix up to Hanneman, folding his arms. “Hey, Professor, can I talk to you for a moment?” 

“Of course, Felix, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Even after all the bickering they’ve done, Hanneman gently smiled at him, to his confusion. 

“You know our mission for this week, right?” His eyes darted away from the crest scholar, “I was wondering how necessary it was for me to join?” 

“Felix, you know I can’t have you skipping out on—” Hanneman began. 

“I’m not doing this to be lazy. Actually...” Felix cleared his throat, as he awkwardly continued. “I... I’ve been thinking I may be needed elsewhere. To help out someone else, I mean.” He moved his field of view to Ashe’s desk. 

Hanneman immediately caught on and adjusted his monocle. “You’re asking to join the Black Eagles on their mission, I take it?” 

“Yes.” He matter-of-factly replied. “I... I know what losing family is like, especially in relation to Duscar. I was thinking maybe I can help that kid out, if I’m not strictly needed, for this moon.” 

A friendly chuckle slipped out of Hanneman’s mouth. “I don’t know if I’d say all students are strictly _needed_ for what is essentially noble sitting. And we _do_ have Jeralt joining us, again, so I don’t think missing one more student would really hurt us.” 

“So that means...” 

Hanneman gently grinned at him, affirmingly shaking his head. “So long as you can secure that Archbishop’s permission, this late, I’ll allow it.” 

“I... thanks.” A small smile escaped the myrmidon. “I’ll be sure to take it up with either Lady Rhea or Seteth.” 

Before Felix could make his exit, Hanneman called out, “Felix.” 

Felix turned around to the old teacher as he went on. “I know our relationship has been rocky, to say the least, but you’ve earned my respect for wanting to help someone in dire need out, like you are. I’ve felt the pain of losing a love one to horrible circumstances, as well, so seeing you go out of your way to stop something like that from happening—well, I guess you can say I’m proud of you, for it. I’m sure Ashe will appreciate it, as well.” 

Felix sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “...Thank you, but you don’t need to praise me like this, I’m just helping someone out, no big deal.” He left as the sentiment from Hanneman made him uncomfortable, yet slightly cheerful, and made his way to the monastery’s central building. 

* * *

“Well, this is it.” Ashe forcefully exhaled as he lifted himself from his bed, dressed in his fighter uniform, and grabbed his bow, quiver, and axe. “It’s now or never.” 

Every bone in his body ached with an immense anxiety. For each move he made, Ashe could feel his body get heavier and more laborious to move. His heart ran at a mile a minute and sweat was already building up, around his forehead. Just to not vomit from fear was a challenge, in and of itself. If something were to go wrong, if he were to screw up one thing, Ashe’s reason for being would be cut down in a moment’s notice. 

As the boy creaked open his bedroom door, he saw Felix, decked out in his own gear, leaning against a nearby wooden column with his arms crossed. 

“So, you ready?” Felix bluntly asked. 

“I—Felix, what are you doing here?” 

His lips lightly curved. “Thought our house’s mission was a drag, and I figured my talents could be used somewhere else where I’d be more needed.” He leaned off the pillar. “Also... I figured you’d want some backup, today. You know, to help get you to your old man, with less trouble. That, and I want to make sure Ferdinand doesn’t say something stupid about this that’ll annoy me, when I find out after the fact.” 

Ashe’s eyes widened and so did the smile on his face. “Felix—thank you. Thank you so much.” The ex-commoner bowed to him in his typical, overly-respectful manner. 

“Cut it out, will you?” Felix groaned. “You don’t need to put on the chivalrous act. It’s just one friend helping out another, alright?” 

Ashe’s beaming expression only continued to grow. “Right, of course. Regardless, I really appreciate this, Felix.” 

Felix held out his fist to Ashe, and the boy met his classmate’s knuckles with his own. The two of them grinned at one another and Felix pointed his thumb to the officer’s academy. “Okay, let’s get going, I don’t feel like getting yelled at for getting us both late, got it?” 

Ashe amiably nodded and began to rush over to the Black Eagles with Felix right beside him. For one brief moment, things started to look up for the child. 

However, that moment’s respite was just that: a _moment’s_ respite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry if my writing is especially stiff, this time around. I'll most likely work that out through some later edits, but I at least wanted to get something out before my final classes begin, in a little over a week. I don't expect the wait between later installments to get as bad as, say, the five weeks between chapters 4 and 5, but I also know that college really limits when and for how long I can write, and I'm already very inconsistent on how much I can write down, as is.
> 
> \- I love some of the weird skill distributions for enemy/recruitable units in 3H, and one of them is that the [three](https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Ashe/Stats#Chapter_5) [student](https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Bernadetta/Stats#Chapter_5) [archers](https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Ignatz/Stats#Chapter_5) bizarrely have a D in brawling from chapters 3-5 (before they forget everything punch-wise after Miklan dies. [Other units have identical](https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Dorothea/Stats#Chapter_5) [cases for other skills](https://fireemblemwiki.org/wiki/Raphael/Stats#Chapter_5), but this is my personal favorite). I guess they decided to learn how to throw hands & spent too many braincells trying to find Flayn for a month, which made them just forgot how to fistfight, apparently. Naturally, I wanted to work that little quirk into Ashe's training session with Caspar.
> 
> \- I changed the bit about Ashe’s support with Byleth to her asking him for shopping help, because it makes more sense to me that the resident haggler be the one that’s assisting in shopping, rather than being the one to ask for it. 
> 
> \- So, technically only one mission assistant is allowed per mission in-game, but I really wanted to add in Felix as well to help in, just to work more with his (somewhat canonical) attachment/fondness for Ashe. Well, that and I just had no clue what I’d do for the Blue Lions’ mission for chapter 3 that would be remotely interesting to read, so it additionally just lets me use Felix & not stick him in some boring glorified sidequest, while Ashe has his all-expense-paid trip to lifelong trauma. Despite how this has gone, so far, I don’t want this just to be about Ashe’s endeavors, otherwise I would’ve made it only from his perspective (though how I handle first 4-5 months kind of necessitates making this more about him, for the time being. Especially the fifth month’s first half).


	11. Thunder Crashing Through the Fog

The two Blue Lions found Byleth and the rest of her class waiting in their classroom, overlooking a map on one of the student's desks. The professor looked up to them and called out, “Ashe, Felix, perfect timing.” 

The entire class turned around and suddenly Ashe could feel the eyes of everyone else barreling down at him, immediately causing his anxiety to skyrocket. 

At least, he _thought_ everyone else was looking at him. Rather, they were staring at Felix, completely bewildered. 

“Wait, Felix?” Ferdinand wondered aloud. “I thought you—” 

“Were going with the Blue Lions, I know. I changed my mind.” Felix interrupted. “I wasn’t really needed and there are more pressing matters at hand, are you really going to complain that I’m helping you?” 

Ferdinand shut his mouth and Felix shook Ashe’s shoulder, urging him to move along. 

“Oh, well, this is a nice surprise.” Dorothea flirtily winked at Felix. “We appreciate the company, Felix.” 

He nearly gagged from hearing that and whispered to Ashe. “You know, _may_ have to rescind that offer to help you.” 

While Ashe’s time with Dorothea have been overall pleasant—minus the mock battle, anyway—the same couldn’t be said for Felix. Whenever he’s training, eating, or just sitting down, she breathes down his neck about as often as Sylvain does, constantly pestering him and trying to seduce him. Even if he’d not known her reputation, beforehand, the last thing Felix would ever concern himself with is romance. To Felix, life should be focused on training and improving, not blathering like some gibbering idiot because you can’t keep your impulses in check. Even the idea of romance just made him woefully uncomfortable, nowadays. 

“Anyway, Professor, I take it you were told about me joining in?” Felix kept his eyes planted on her and away from the others. 

She nodded. “Yep, I’ll admit, I was caught off guard, but...” Her gaze flitted to Ashe for a split second, so fast that only Felix could see it. “I think I get why you’re joining. It’s really appreciated.” 

The swordsman quickly looked away and cleared his throated, averting making any eye contact. 

Byleth gestured with her hand for the Black Eagles to make room for the duo and pointed down at the map. “Okay, so Ashe, you might have a good idea on what Magdred is like and the people that live nearby. Are there any particular areas where the enemy can hide? Seteth told me we weren’t supposed to expect a fight, but just in case, is there anything we need to worry about?” 

He shook his head. “Depending on where you’re at in Magdred, there’s not much beyond a lot of woodlands, but that still allows for ambush attacks, as does the fog that can show up there, from time to time. That said, the fog never usually gets too bad. And when it comes to Lonato’s men, usually they consist of regular archers and axe users. That’s how I ended up learning how to use an axe and bow, in the first place." 

Byleth held her free hand to her chin. “Hm. So I’m guessing the basic infantry are essentially going to be meat shields, while the archers try and pick us off from the forest. Anyone else we have to keep tabs on?” 

“Well...” He placed a hand by his mouth, pensively. “Gaspard has a few sword and lance use—” The archer snapped his fingers. “Oh, right, his elite guards! Castle Gaspard has two factions of elite soldiers: paladins and armor knights. Lonato usually keeps the paladins to him and uses them to flank his enemies, so they’re basically a supplement for when he jumps into the fray. The armor knights, on the other hand, are usually designated as one collection of units let by their chief. They’re basically an iron wall, and are trained not to move until either they, a nearby solider, or Lonato is provoked.” 

“Got it, so he and his knights’ll probably be hanging back, waiting while the others whittle us down, before trying to pummel us. And Caspar told me that Lonato was dangerous in his own right.” 

Caspar’s eyes looked particularly distressed. “Yeah, even before I got here, I knew about how powerful Lonato can be. I heard he got his position from serving the old king’s brother, so he has to be up there, at least.” 

She placed both hands on the table looking directly in Ashe’s eyes. “And are there any especially dangerous units beyond that?” 

A cold sweat dropped down Ashe’s face as one idea entered his mind. “R—Rowe has nothing to do with this rebellion, right?” 

Felix’s body tensed at the mention of House Rowe, while Byleth squinted. “As far as I know, they’re hanging back, for now.” 

Ashe nearly collapsed in relief and let out an elated sigh, and Felix quietly exhaled through his nose. “All right, so Gwendal’s not involved, thankfully.” 

Everyone immediately turned to Felix. Caspar had the most stunned look on his face and promptly shouted, “Wait, hold on, _you’re_ thankful we aren’t fighting someone, Felix?” 

Felix scowled. “Don’t condescend to me like that, it makes me sick. Gwendal is an especially dangerous knight from House Rowe. He makes Lonato seem like a housefly in comparison. Rowe’s men in general are far more threatening than almost any other force in Faerghus, barring the king’s men.” 

Ashe pointed and nodded at Felix. “I’ve only been to Rowe’s place so many times, but I can tell there’s a reason that they preside over Arianrhod, they’re strong to an almost brutal degree, especially Gwendal. Going off of what I’ve heard about him from Lonato and an old friend who lived with Count Rowe, he constantly hones his strength, even in his old age. Despite not having a crest, he’s slain countless foes, to the point he’s even called the Gray Lion, as a result.” 

“I’m sorry, but I’ve heard that name before, what even _is_ Arianrhod?” Byleth asked, leaning down and tenting her hands in front of her face, using her elbows to prop herself up. 

Edelgard quickly began to explain, “The Fortress City of Arianrhod is an immense citadel on the border of the Kingdom and the Empire. In fact, originally it was a part of the Empire’s ranks.” 

Hubert chimed in, his arms folded. “And once what would eventually become the Kingdom rebelled, Arianrhod betrayed Adrestia and its owners gave it to Faerghus as an offering. It’s also known as the Silver Maiden, for it’s beautiful, white, nigh-impenetrable walls.” 

“That’s the basic gist of it, anyway.” Felix also crossed his arms. “To take on that responsibility requires a lot of powerful soldiers. If they were to join the fight, we’d need a lot more than a handful of students and a few church soldiers. That said, they aren’t an enemy, and Lonato’s almost definitely not winning this. He has power, but not _that_ much.” 

Ashe whimpered, once again thinking about the worst possible scenario. 

“Especially since we have that Catherine on our side. She alone should be more than enough, from what I’ve heard.” 

Felix almost smiled before he saw the distressed look on Ashe’s face. 

“Alright, so in that case, we’re going to have to lure out the close-combat units before even trying to take on the archers. Hmm....” Byleth’s eyes darted all over the map of Magdred, until she pointed at the southeast portion. “Okay, this is how we do it. Felix, Edelgard, you two are with me in the front, since you both are the most effective in close-quarters.” 

A pained grimace formed on Ferdinand’s face and he meekly looked to the ground. 

“Ashe, I’m keeping you and Felix together. You guys are a part of the same class, so each of you can cover the other’s weaknesses, if need be. I also figured that it gives you two the greatest chance to reach Lonato first, which I’m certain is in Ashe’s best interest.” 

Ashe excitedly nodded as he tried to contain himself, while Felix turned his head away to hide his smile, desperately trying to play it cool. 

“Caspar, Petra, Ferdinand, Hubert, you four are in the middle.” Byleth began pointing at each student. “Caspar can rely on using his fists against enemies who use just short-range weapons. Petra, you’re good with both short and mid-range weapons, so you can mix up whatever you’re doing, based on the range of the enemy. Ferdinand, you’ve got that fancy horse of yours to cover more ground than the rest, so I need you to support the other students by rushing in if they’re struggling and pick people off. And Hubert...” She gave a small grin to the dark mage. “Don’t worry, you’ll be close enough to Edelgard that you can support her, specifically, from a distance. I think you’d stab me if I had you do literally anything else.” 

Hubert gave terrifyingly smirked as he courteously bowed. “You have my thanks, Professor. You’ve chosen wisely.” 

Byleth kept smiling as she pointed at the final three students. “This should be pretty self-explanatory. Dorothea, you’ve got some magical range, and I’ve seen how well you can take a hit, back row. Linhardt, same deal, only you’re abusing that great new Physic technique you learned. Bernadetta, you feel safest in the back and can hit from exceptionally far away, so this is a no-brainer.” 

Bernadetta timidly smiled, slightly blushing. “Thank you so much, Professor.” 

The mercenary kindly bobbed her head. “So, if there’s no objections...” She peered toward each student, waiting for a response, before folding up the map. “We’ll be sticking with this plan. Well, assuming we’re even supposed to fight. Let’s move out, Black Eagles.” 

Once everyone began to leave, Felix pulled Ferdinand back, scowling at him. “I swear to the Goddess, if I hear you giving that kid a hard time...” 

“I had no intention of it, Felix. “Ferdinand met him with an insulted glare. “If anything, I pity him. Having such a repugnant—” 

Felix slightly unsheathed his blade with his thumb. “Don’t even.” 

Ferdinand let out a resigned sigh. “Fine, I won’t give Lonato his due criticism, right now. But I still reserve my right to dislike what he’s doing.” 

“I don’t care whether you love or hate the man,” Felix growled. “Just don’t start going on about his noble duties—not now. And this is coming from _me_ , for crying out loud.” 

Ferdinand placed a hand to his heart. “You have my word that I won’t do such a thing. I’ll reserve my judgment to myself.” He looked Felix square in the eye. “I understand that Ashe must be going through a lot, but at the very least you could respect where I’m coming from. Is that too much to ask?” 

“A little bit.” The shorter noble growled. “But... I guess I can put up with it—for now.” 

Ferdinand gave a maddeningly sincere smile as he began to take his leave. “That’s all I ask, Felix.” 

* * *

Compared to the journey to Rhodos Coast, traveling to Magdred Way was mercifully short, only taking around a day to do so. 

Well, that’s how _Felix_ was feeling, anyway. It felt several times longer for Ashe, for each step he took closer to his adoptive father’s home, the closer he was to having to face him on the battlefield. 

Once camp had been set up, Ashe found himself sitting by the riverside whilst the sun was starting to go down, breathing deeply as he gazed at the water. “Tomorrow’s the day...” 

“I see you’re not doing so well, Ashe.” Catherine called out behind him. 

Ashe nearly jumped. “Catherine! I... well, I’m doing as well as I can, anyway.” 

She quietly chuckled. “I guess that’s the best we can hope for, huh? Can’t imagine fighting your old man is exactly a pleasant thought.” 

Catherine commanded quite the presence, even for a knight of Seiros. She was draped in an unusual take on the traditional Fodlan garb for master swordsmen, with light armor found around her body, from her knees to her chest, and she was draped in several white cloths on her left side. Catherine also had a somewhat muscular frame, befitting a seasoned soldier, and her long blonde hair remained tied back at all times, as if she was always ready for a fight. 

“No, it really isn’t.” Ashe shook his head as his voice shook, before turning back to the gentle stream in front of him. “I keep thinking about what could happen tomorrow. Not a second goes by that I don’t get at least a little worried that Lonato will—” He stopped himself before standing right up, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all of my personal troubles. I’m sure enough people have gone on about how much of a stressed-out mess I’ve been acting like, for the past few weeks.” 

Catherine dismissively waved her hand. “Eh, that’s not a problem at all. I can’t blame you for that.” Her amicable face became quite stern in the blink of an eye. “Do you really think you’re ready for this? Because if you aren’t, then I don’t know if you should really be out here.” 

“I...” Just coming up with the words in his head was a struggle, much less vocalizing them. “I wish I could give you an answer, but even now, I’m still unsure.” 

“If you remain unsure, you’ll just make yourself a liability.” She bluntly spat. “Hesitation means you're opening yourself or someone else to getting killed. Getting reluctant is only going to hinder you, on the battlefield." 

“I know that, but...” Ashe cleared his ever-tightening throat. “I’m about to fight not just Lonato, but several innocent people, tomorrow. I—” He inhaled a deep, unstable breath. “I went to Garreg Mach in order to become a knight like the legends, and I feel like I’ve been sent on hired hits, instead.” 

Catherine furrowed her brow. “Well, unfortunately, that’s how being a knight works. We’re not heroes, we follow a duty and we carry it out.” Her expression softened. “Look, I get that you probably have a strong sense of justice, but that doesn’t really apply to our line of work. The church’s wishes are the knight’s wishes, and we aren’t fighting Lonato because he agrees with what Lady Rhea is doing.” 

“But there has to be another way, right?” Ashe despairingly pleaded. “Maybe we can talk him down, or we can simply detain him, or—” 

“Ashe!” Catherine bellowed, her voice piercing and harsh. “I know Lady Rhea told you that you have a chance to talk Lonato down, but think of what you’re dealing with. We’re talking about a man so riven by rage that he’d turn his blade and his people on the Church of Seiros—I highly doubt he can be reasoned with. If he can? Great, wonderful, even, but if you’re too focused on that and not getting your mission done, you’re only making yourself vulnerable, understand?” 

Any defense for himself had escaped him, and Ashe just stood there, awkwardly. 

Catherine sighed and she put a hand to the side of her head. “I’m sorry, but the job of a knight isn’t to be a hero, it’s to carry out a duty. We’re the sword and shield of Seiros, nothing less, and nothing more. Whatever legends you’ve been reading are just that—legends, and if you don’t get that in your head sooner, you’re just asking for disappointment, later. Whether that’s for you is something you’ll have to figure out on your own.” 

The swordmaster started to walk away. “You have to face this reality now if you really want to see whether or not knighthood is truly what you want, Ashe. This is a job that requires seeing and doing some things you’ll find horrific. If you’re not ready for that, if you’re not ready to make some of the hardest choices a person can possibly make, then you’re probably needed somewhere you can actually be a hero.” 

Before she could leave, Ashe cried out to her, “Catherine! Wha—what do you think I should do? I... I don’t have any idea on what’s right or wrong about this, please, you’re a knight, I need your—” 

“I already told you, you need to figure it out yourself.” She continued to withdraw, not even looking at him. “I’m not a babysitter, I can’t tell you what you want, that’s for _you_ to decide. Think for yourself, stop praying that someone else makes your decisions for you.” 

Once she was gone, Ashe dropped back to the ground, staring at the nearby stream, yet again. 

_It seems pretty much everything I’ve learned about knights is completely false, to begin with..._

He tightened his fist and almost lost control of himself. Everywhere he goes, the values he’s held since childhood had been repeatedly mocked and torn apart, and evidently for very good reason. Even the bastion of knighthood, his whole life, is likely to get cut down before him. The boy slammed his fist against the earth. He wanted to scream, to shout every repulsive, irreprehensible word under the sun, but couldn’t muster the strength to do so. His world was crumbling around him, and he feels powerless to be able to stop it from happening. 

_What was I thinking, getting myself into this? I don’t even know if I’m built for the job I signed up for, I clearly can’t do this all by myself, but what can I—_

He gave a shaking, sobbing sigh and buried his head into his knees, a testament to how little he was actually capable of. 

* * *

The full moon glistened in the dark blue sky as a raging bonfire licked the air. Felix sat with his hands in front of his face, staring at the orange flames, in silent contemplation. By this point in the night, about half of the class had already turned in, including Ashe, who was mentally exhausted. 

Byleth sat on the opposite side of the fire, using a stick to mess around with the burning logs. Edelgard was right beside her, as pensive as ever and true to Hubert’s calling, he remained in her shadow, as always. Dorothea sat near Felix, to his displeasure, but seemed to preoccupied to bother him, this time. 

The only thing that broke the silence for the longest time was the crackling wood and sparks of ember. Thankfully, the night was chilly enough to warrant the flames, though Felix was feeling a different kind of discomfort than the usual overheating. No, what he was feeling was anxious—disturbed, even. Sent on another hired hit for the church, which usually would excite him, to a degree, but the circumstances couldn’t be more different or less bleak. 

“So, do you think we won’t have to, you know, fight them?” Dorothea muttered. 

“Who’s to say?” Byleth continued to prod the fire. “We were told to not expect combat, but given what Felix, over here, has been telling me about Faerghus, I have a hard time believing that.” 

Felix cleared his throat. “Much as I’d like to believe otherwise, it’s very unlikely.” He scowled into the blaze. “Ashe seems to think of him as some embodiment of chivalry. If that’s true, then he probably worships his own death and never backing down in the face of it. He must know that he can’t win, but his precious duty’s going to make him go with this rebellion, anyway.” He clenched his fist. “All of those accursed knights think like that, it makes me sick. He probably thinks this is some kind of divine oath, when he’s really just glorifying his own suicide.” 

Hubert held his hand sideways by his face, letting out a small chuckle. “Well, at least someone from over there seems to have their head on straight. I’ve done my due research into the Holy Kingdom myself—for purely political reasons, mind you—and their culture is, if you don’t mind Felix—” 

Felix waved him off. “Go for it, I’m not fond of their traditions, myself.” 

The butler darkly smiled. “—Is home to quite the stubborn, stupid lot. They swear fealty to their king and follow their orders out of blind obligation. In fact, if you could sum them up in one word, it would be just that, obligation.” 

Edelgard sternly nodded. “Faerghus also is quite vicious in its tactics—” 

She was briefly cut off by another chuckle from Hubert, and she rolled her eyes. “Faerghus’s means for solving problems tends to be extreme violence, just look at the people of Duscar.” 

Felix scoffed and crossed his arms. “Okay, that’s the _one_ time that my damn, miserable excuse of a country did anything right. Also, the only thing I can actually find common ground with Ingrid on. Well, that and Sylvain being a pain in—” 

“Would you say that everyone in Duscar deserved to be slaughtered, destroyed in the name of one solitary incident, when we didn't even make fully sure it was _them_ who caused it?” Edelgard coarsely retorted. 

The Faerghus-born's blood pressure spiked. “Considering that the Kingdom is in shamble because of them, they tortured my brother, and then left him as a pile of gored flesh, I’d say so. And sorry if that people got slaughtered in Duscar, and we deduced it was their fault.” 

“But Felix, you know that not everyone in Duscar caused the Tragedy, right?” Byleth stared at him, incredulously. “Dimitri even told me that Dedue is the reason he’s even alive.” 

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t change what they as a people did,” He growled. 

Byleth placed her cheek on her fist. “So, does that mean everyone in the kingdom is some fool?” 

Felix angrily sneered. “Those who try to go on and on about chivalry and living for the dead, yes. Anyway, we were talking about whether Lonato was going to live?” 

Hubert gave a disgusting, mugging expression. “How he isn’t likely to survive because of the culture you claim to hate but seem to follow the core tenants of, yes.” 

Before Felix could verbally tear Hubert a new one, Dorothea intervened. “Do you think Ashe will be able to get through to him, or at least slow him down?” 

“The kid seems to revere him a lot, as does many students from Faerghus, but then again, he apparently tried to go one-on-one with Seteth and got his ass handed to him, but still elected to wage war anyway...” Byleth nonchalantly replied. As is typical for her, she said even the gravest things with complete calmness. 

“He’s going to get destroyed by this...” Felix’s eyebrows arched in concern and he leaned back with a somber look on his face. “He was already a mess, back at Rhodos, so on the very likely chance Lonato gets annihilated, that kid will absolutely lose it.” He sat back up and slammed his fist against the log beneath him so hard it almost split wide open. “Dammit!” 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” The mercenary lightly smiled. 

A faint pink tint scorched his cheeks and he turned his head away. “I... Well, you all heard me mention what happened to my brother—I know more than anyone about what it’s like to see your family brutally slaughtered, so... I guess you could say I just didn’t want him to go through that alone.” 

Edelgard’s face shifted from calm, to noticeably annoyed, to lightly cheerful in the span of just a few seconds, while Dorothea leaned over to Felix, beaming at him. “Aww, look at you, caring about your friend like that, Felix. You know, some girls find that an attractive quality.” 

The swordsman scrunched up his face as Dorothea giggled at his expense. “But in all seriousness, it’s good you worry about him so much. People of similar backgrounds need to stick together.” 

“Tch. I wouldn’t call us ‘similar,’ by any stretch. And ‘worry’ is a bit of an exaggeration.” 

“This coming from the man who continues to validate a culture, he _says_ he despises, because he’s terrified of his friends getting hurt?” Hubert’s vile grin widened across his whole face. It took everything in Felix to not beat the tar out of him, right then and there. 

“I don’t know, I think someone that spends his free time tending to stray cats in the monastery has to have a bit of compassion, in his heart.” Edelgard’s voice dripped with an exasperating amusement. 

Byleth and Dorothea held their mouths open and their lips raised, as Felix blushed so furiously, he felt like he erupted in flames. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m allowed to have my own interests, beyond training, there’s nothing wrong with it!” 

“Oh, I’m not saying there’s anything _wrong_ about that...” Dorothea teasingly fluttered her eye at him. “If anything, it’s quite endearing.” 

Felix tried not to wretch as he leapt from his log, storming to his tent. “That's it. Enough of this, I’m heading in, good night.” 

“Felix,” Byleth shouted out to him, bearing a look of shocking pride. “Seriously though, thanks for helping us out. And look, we’re just messing around with you, but it’s still fine to worry about other people, there’s no shame in it, you don’t have to keep running around pretending you don’t. We’re all adults—er, mostly—here.” 

Felix grumbled and muttered out, “...Don’t worry about it, I just want to get some sleep, alright?” He waved her off before collapsing on his sleeping bag. To his right, even in his sleep, Ashe was as tense as ever, and he was constantly tossing and turning. Felix pulled the covers over him, and the child calmed down, if only a little. 

The older boy’s face lightly brightened, and soon enough, slumber took its hold on him, as well, and his flustered thoughts drifted away. 

* * *

The day had finally arrived—the students were lined up at the very edge of Magdred as Catherine and her knights appeared to their south. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a sword. How appropriate, then, that the same could be said for the obnoxious fog that enveloped the entire forest, making visibility next to impossible. 

“It seems that Ashe might’ve underestimated how bad this fog would get, I can barely see anyone.” Linhardt whined. 

Ashe called out in the direction of Linhardt’s bellyaching. “I said that _usually_ the fog isn’t too bad, and even then, I’ve never seen it get _this_ bad, before.” 

Edelgard sniffled and tightened her grip on her axe. “Even so, that smell is unmistakable—it’s fresh blood, the battle seems to have already started in the fog.” 

Catherine shone her blade in front of her and shouted out, “Proceed with caution! Wait for them to enter your field of view before making a move.” 

The sword she wielded sparked with a scarlet electricity, and was a work of masonry like few other weapons. The Heroes’ Relic, Thunderbrand;s legendary Foudroyant Strike has been seen as an incredible offensive force that few can escape with their lives from, if that’s even possible. Its design was very peculiar, to say the least, for it had three uneven branches for each edge, and the metal it was made out of looked more like worn-out bones, cracked and a dull off-yellow, when it wasn’t charged in a deep red-orange glow. Such an extraordinary weapon is what earned the knight the nickname Thunder Catherine, due to her cutting down enemies so fast, all that could be observed was the thunderclaps that followed her swings. 

Felix couldn’t help but stare at the masterwork in front of him. Even in this blinding fog, the brilliant light from Thunderbrand glimmered with a terrifying energy that could be seen for miles. If only he could use or even challenge that blade... but now was not the time to be thinking about such things. 

“If you hear something, wait for them to come to you, don’t rush in! Remember what I’ve taught you—bait them out, if you run in blindly, you’ll get slaughtered.” Byleth announced, before turning her head behind her. “That means _you_ , Caspar.” 

“U-understood, Professor!” Caspar screamed out, noticeably embarrassed. 

"All right, class, let the lesson begin!” Byleth slowly moved forward, as did Felix, Edelgard, and Ashe, all holding their weapons in front of them, when one soldier, brandishing an iron sword, came charging in against Felix. 

“Lord Lonato doesn’t deserve to live with such sadness and anger... now it’s your turn to suffer!” 

Felix instinctually swung one precise strike at high speeds, cleaving the man’s body in a single shot. As he looked around, Ashe heard an arrow whizz by their heads and tackled Felix to the ground. “The archers are opening fire!” 

Another arrow shot near Edelgard, and before it could reach her, a blast of Miasma Δ was fired by Hubert, melting the bolt instantly. 

More shots were lobbed at Ashe and Felix, and one grazed the former’s shoulder. He peered his eyes into the forest and saw a lone archer, preparing his bow, and Ashe drew back his bowstring, the two bowmen waiting for the other to make the first move. “Felix, to your right!” 

The myrmidon looked where Ashe was calling and could just barely make out the enemy. “I’m on it!” He charged in, brandishing his blade and carefully watching where the arrow would head. The archer took aim at Felix and once the arrow was fired, Felix rolled to the ground and leapt back to his feet after the projectile had passed him by. Ashe took the opportunity to take a shot at his foe, but another archer hit struck his abdomen, causing him to loudly groan and whiff his attack. 

Ashe gritted his teeth and yelled out, “Another one in the northwest!” 

It was now Byleth’s turn, and she instantly ran to Ashe’s rescue, holding her sword right behind her. She saw the bowman to the distance and zigzagged her movements in an attempt to make her foe whiff the one shot he could take. To her credit, this paid off, and she closed the gap, spinning her body around and letting loose a powerful slash that ripped through the man’s hand. She took her right leg and smashed it against his torso, before unleashing a barrage of punches, beating him within an inch of his life in a matter of seconds, finishing him of with one axe kick to the skull and sending his face hurtling towards the earth. 

Felix, meanwhile, had found his way to the other ranged attacker and stabbed his leg, knocking him off balance. As soon as he did this, however, a soldier and fighter came out from the woods, forcing Felix away. 

Ashe hurriedly readied another arrow and sent it hurting through the axe-wielder's chest, striking him down in a critical shot. The soldier charged forth, but Ferdinand strode in on his horse, turning it around to smash its back hooves in the other lancer’s cranium. 

Once those two had fallen, Felix quickly dispatched the archer, piercing his lungs with his sword. Ashe ran in after him and looked at the three men, all of them quite young and seemingly not nobility. The fighter, gurgling on his own blood, pleaded, “Lord Lonato... for your sake... please, don’t die...” 

The former thief knelt down to him and closed the departed combatant's eyes for him, holding back his tears and the bile in his throat. “Why Lonato? Why did you drag so many others into...” His words were held back by his quiet sobs, before Felix, whipped him around by the shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t start crying, now, we still aren’t even close to Lonato, yet.” Felix’s voice was stern, but unnaturally soft. “Let’s get to your old man first, and then you can start bawling your eyes out, but right now, you’re just placing a target, on your back.” 

“I know, but—” 

Felix forcibly shook his classmate. “No buts, just go! Do you want your dad to live, or not!?” 

Ashe immediately yelped and stopped his crying. “R-right, sorry!” 

The belligerent noble let Ashe go and he started running on ahead. “Don’t apologize, just get this over with, already!” 

Ashe cleared his throat and quickly followed after him, seeing more and more bloodied bodies lying on the ground. It was completely terrifying, the only thing that could be seen for what felt like forever was just corpse after corpse, the putrid stench of fresh blood tainted the air, and all that could be heard was the clashing of swords, the screams of the fallen, and claps of booming thunder. 

Eventually, an electrical surge exploded across the land, and the fog dissipated in a matter of seconds. The two Blue Lions could see the Black Eagles cleaning house, Ferdinand was constantly hitting and running, always landing powerful blows and never taking a single one, in return. Caspar, thanks to Linhardt’s long-range healing, was able to bash his way through several myrmidons like it was nothing. While Petra quickly dispatched any long-range foes with ease, anyone in a close enough range to her was struck down by an extremely distraught Dorothea, her face strained with disgust and horror. Edelgard’s precision with an axe was nothing short of jaw-dropping, as she cleanly shredded through her foes, whilst Hubert laid waste to any obstacles in his way with a torrent of violet, exploding slime blobs and tornados of black-and-purple orbs. 

As for Byleth, she continued to show where her ‘Ashen Demon’ moniker came from, smashing through everyone who’d dare challenge her, moving north to deal with several pesky archers who kept trying to nail her down, while Bernadetta sniped from an extraordinary distance, placing many enemy bowmen at her mercy, despite her constant crying and shouting in mortal terror. 

And then there was Catherine, her mighty Thunderbrand tore apart Lonato’s militants with ease, ripping them to shreds and frying their bodies alive. Behind her, a dark mage was found lying on the ground as a sinister aura dissipated from his body. She quickly bolted towards the northwest, nearly reaching the end of the clearing. 

The armored guard of Gaspard closed in on the students from Faerghus, and Felix readied his sword in front of him. 

“Halt! Both of you stay back, lest you want to be executed, here and now!” The leader shouted, placing his axe in front of his enormous shield. 

“Wait!” Ashe screamed, loosening his stance. “It’s me, Ashe! I’m Lonato’s son, please, let me pass through! You all recognize me, right?” 

“I—” The chief slightly relieved his posture, before resuming his battle stance. “No, I’m afraid I cannot. Lord Lonato has ordered us to keep you as far away as possible. He doesn’t want you to see—” 

“To hell with this!” Felix roared, pushing Ashe out of the way and flourishing his sword in front of him. “Ashe, you go on ahead, I’ll take all of these idiots on, by myself.” 

“Wha—Felix you can’t be—” 

“Don’t question me, I’ll be fine!” He turned to Ashe and gave an assuring grin. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s fighting to stay alive. Don’t worry about me, get the hell out of here!” 

“I...” Ashe smiled and was nearly moved to tears. “Felix, thank you so much.” He ran further upwards and before the soldiers could get to him, Felix soared in, blocking them off and releasing the power of his major crest, cloaking himself in a shining, powerful blue aura. “Oh no, you lot aren’t going anywhere. Come at me, and let’s just see how much punishment you dastards can really take!” 

Ashe continued to sprint at full speed to the end of Magdred Way, where he saw all of Lonato’s faithful paladins cut apart and smoking, covered in bright red sparks. Just beyond the pile of dead bodies was Catherine and Lonato in a fierce clash, his lance being seared by the Thunderbrand she bore, while he pushed her back with the momentum gained from his armored steed. 

Ashe whipped out his bow and fired at the two. “Stop this, now!” 

The two combatants turned and leapt back as the ex-commoner's attack flew right on by. “Lonato, please, stop this at once! I don’t know where this is all coming from, but I’m sure we can just talk this out!” 

Lonato gasped and his eyes bulged, lowering his lance. “Ashe, what are you—” He turned back to Catherine and starting shaking his head and chuckling, before breaking into a deafening, furious cackle as he tilted his head toward the sky. His eyes were covered in bloodshot veins, and even more popped out of his now dark red face. “I should’ve known that that witch would’ve pit my son against me! Of course, that twisted harlot would force him here! Why would I expect anything else from that blasted Central Church!” 

With tears in his eyes, Ashe ran towards Lonato. “No, Lonato, that’s not it at all! I wanted to talk this out with you. I know you must have your reasons for doing this, but if you would just talk with one another, for a moment—” 

“Silence!” Lonato howled, raising his pike. “I won’t tolerate more of this damned church’s lies! They are the ones who murdered Christophe in cold blood, and dare claim that he conspired in the Tragedy of Duscar! All for the love of that monster in human skin!” 

Ashe looked on in horror as Catherine met his father with an equally enraged glare. “Don’t you dare say that about Lady Rhea! It was Christophe's own doing that lead to his demise, and no one else's!” 

“Lies!” Lonato screeched, clenching his teeth so hard, that his gums whitened. “My son had _nothing_ to do with the Tragedy! You off all people should know that to be true, Cassandra. And yet he was slain for completely farcical reasons! The Central Church has held its grip on Fodlan for far too long, and it’s high time I end it, alive or dead!” 

Ashe ran in between the two and outstretched his arms. “Lonato, please! This isn’t like you, at all! You’re better than this, I’m begging you to surrender. Please, dad...” 

Lonato started to softly cry and he held his lance at his son, as Ashe slowly shuddered his head, his face drenched in tears. “Enough. If that’s how you feel, then I’m afraid I have no choice.” He reared his weapon and charged on his. “If you're so insistent on stopping me, then prepare yourself, Ashe! I’m putting an end to the Central Church, here and now!” 

Catherine threw Ashe out of the way and she blocked the lance with her relic, grunting as she briefly flashes her Crest, showering herself in a powerful yellow lightning. Unlike Dimitri’s wild sparks, however, Catherine’s body was enveloped in a singular, ferocious thunderbolt. With one swing, Lonato and his stallion were forced backwards, as the knight of Seiros began to wheeze from exertion. 

The paladin reared up his horse and charged at full tilt, striking Catherine in her shoulder, striking her back and forth with hit-and-run attacks, wearing down her armor and opening fresh wounds with each shot. She readied a fighting stance as she was getting scraped and torn by his partisan, and on Lonato’s final strike, her crest shone and she disappeared in an instant. Suddenly, she darted around the him in a triangular pattern, moving so fast that blue afterimages appeared wherever she struck his horse, before dashing back to her original position, whilst Lonato’s steed fell in a bloodied heap, and the old knight’s legs were wracked with many seething gashes. 

He readied himself to his feet, stumbling to keep his body up, writhing in excruciating pain. He ran forth, forcing himself through the torture he was feeling and swiping back and forth at Catherine, who exhausted herself from her Astra attack. The swordswoman narrowly dodged each swing and flipped away from the onslaught, before kneeling to the ground to catch her breath. 

Lonato collapsed to his knees, as well, gasping and groaning as he used his lance to hold his weary self up. 

Ashe ran over to his father, once again making a barricade out of himself. “Please, stop this at once, Lonato!” His words were nigh-unintelligible, all of them slurred or interrupted by his constant weeping and heavy breathing. “This is—” 

And before he could finish, Lonato struck his face with the back of his fist and raised his lance high above him, his face contorted with anguish and wet with tears. Before Lonato could do any more harm, Catherine raised her sword to the sky, and a thunderbolt shot down onto it, which took on the form of a blade made of pure lightning. She spun her body around and unleashed the full might of her Foudroyant Strike, cleaving Lonato’s upper body from his torso. 

The rebel knight flew backwards, charred and smoking from the chest down, hacking and choking on blood. Ashe screamed so loud his throat nearly gave out and frantically rushed towards him, cradling his head as the grey clouds gave way to a heavy downpour, dousing their faces even further. 

“Tha—that vile woman...” Lonato starting to hack and cough, and his eyes began to glaze over. “Christophe... my son, forgive me...” 

“Lonato... I...” Ashe could barely hold himself together, his eyes burned and water rushed out of them as hard as the torrent from above. “Please, don’t go... don’t leave me!” 

“Ashe...” The fading man croaked. “I’m sorry, but I can’t... I didn’t want this for you, for anyone...” He continued to hack up blood, staining his son’s face, before gripping his collar. “Don’t let them do to you what... what they did to me... Don’t let the Central Church or that witch, Rhea, control you... Don’t let...” 

And having used up the last of his strength, Lonato let go of Ashe, his face permanently in a state of sheer torment, pouring out blood from his mouth and nostrils. 

It took a moment for Ashe to process what had happened. The man who saved his life, who raised him to become a better man than he thinks is truly possible, now ended up attacking him and lying eviscerated on the ground in an unholy, gruesome mess. But once it had fully set in, Ashe screamed to the sky, howling in agony. 

Felix immediately heard his cries, having just finished off the last knight, and ran towards the haunting wailing, only to find Ashe hanging his head over his father’s corpse. Byleth rushed up right behind him, her eyes wide with horror. 

The boy howled and bawled at the top of his lungs in hysterics, begging, pleading for his father to come back—praying for the goddess to come and fix this hell he was trapped in, to end this living nightmare. 

But she never came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- When I said I wanted the next few chapters to release somewhat faster, I wasn’t expecting it to be *literally one week*, but I’ll take it. Huzzah for extended breaks, I guess. 
> 
> \- Thankfully the fight in Magdred is comparably quick to jot down, because of how contained the map/battle is, so I can have a bit more dialogue added in without either bloating the chapter (too much) or splitting it in two. Who knew I could actually write a mission-based chapter that didn’t have a word count in the quintuple (JFC) digits? 
> 
> \- Since [Catherine mentions her crest might affect the weather](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/supports/Lysithea/Catherine/C#event-39), I couldn’t just pass up working that into Foudroyant Strike. Heroes Relic combat arts are something I’m really looking forward to going hog wild with (*especially* the lords’). 
> 
> \- Despite the next chapter obviously dealing with the fallout of this, I don’t intend to get this incredibly melodramatic for quite a few chapters. There’s only so much screaming and crying I can put down before it gets really repetitive—to write and to read. Less emotionally (over)dramatic stuff will be coming soon enough. It's also conveniently when I can say "screw it" and go nuts with my action, finally (yes, Dimitri creating a ten-foot-tall crater with just one lance throw is the *low* level stuff. What can I say? My idea of cool hasn't changed too much from when I was fifteen).


	12. A Kingdom's Follies

**_The dark, arctic morning in Faerghus remained as ruthless as ever. Snow blanketed everywhere for miles on end, for what was actually visible through the roaring blizzard that ravaged the land, stripping away so much heat from the outside that even spending more than a few moments in the thick of it was just begging for gangrene._**

**_However, nothing chilled Felix to the bone more than the unholy, grisly words that Dimitri spoke to him. He didn’t want to believe them, that Glenn had not only been slain, but in the most gruesome way possible. His body had been put through such excruciating misery that they couldn’t even bring back his gory remains, aside from the macabre sight of his frightful, severed head, caked in blood and looking like his was screaming his lungs out, before it was separated from the rest of his butchered, mangled corpse. Felix bawled and screamed in the arms of his best friend, unable to control the writhing pain he felt._ **

**_A man so virtuous, so dedicated to his work and unfathomably brave, savaged in incomprehensible ways, wracked with nightmarish horror that no one else could even fathom to understand the true depths of._ **

**_He turned to his father, who, with water in his eyes and a broken smile on his face, said, “Going through such horrors for the king must’ve been terrifying beyond words. I can't even imagine what my son must've felt. To step up to that, Glenn truly had died like a true kni—”_ **

Felix woke up in a cold sweat, gasping in terror, before looking around and finding himself back in his tent, in the middle of the night. He clutched his head, and muttered, “Damn it, this again.” 

The Black Eagles were currently situated a few hours out from Garreg Mach, one day after the battle in Magdred. Ashe was currently with what was left of his family, getting ready for a slapdash funeral, before being sent right back to the monastery, so the closest thing to company he had was the resting Hubert, maybe the last person he’d try to talk about his worries to. 

He quickly arose from his sleeping bag and walked outside to clear his head, taking his sword with him. If he can’t sleep, maybe some training would do good for his mind. A sword was the closest thing to a companion he had, those past few years. Sharp, easy to use, easy to be precise with, and it doesn’t lecture you on chivalry for hours on end. It and his own physical prowess were all the young man had to rely on for four years, and to this day, they still provide him a semblance of comfort that most other things fail to. 

Once he stepped outside, however, he saw Edelgard and Linhardt sitting outside by a dimly lit flame, with bags in their eyes. The princess was quick to notice Felix, and gave a pained smile, “You couldn’t sleep either?” 

Felix placed a hand by his hip. “I just got woken up and going to sleep in this heat, twice in one night isn’t going to work, so I figured I’d head outside.” His eyes switched over to Linhardt, who looked like he was on the verge of vomiting. “I see you’re taking the slaughter well.” 

“Ugh, hardly.” Linhardt gulped, as if holding back a flood of bile in his throat. “Not even three months in and I’ve been involved in two separate bloodbaths. Why must we have to continue killing people, left and right?” 

Edelgard looked at the green-haired noble with cold reason written all over her face. “That’s not how it works, unfortunately. Reality is often cruel, Linhardt, one can’t expect to live without making a sacrifice, or two.” 

Her pragmatism both worried and impressed Felix. “You almost sound like you’re in support of this hit.” 

“To be blunt, I don’t think it’s fair to the people fighting, to call them victims.” She hunched over, resting her arms on her legs. “They fought for what they believed in and from what I can tell, weren’t forced into it. It would be disrespectful to those who fought and died to downplay their agency.” 

“Their agency for what? Glory? Honor?” Linhardt’s voice raised in anger, far more severe than the typical annoyance he often displayed. “How could you be satisfied with their deaths, like that?” 

Felix also felt a bit of agitation take hold of him, and his eye slightly twitched. “I hate to say it, but I’m with the crybaby, here. Sure, they fought of their own accord, but unflinchingly charging to your death for the sake of your ruler is just asinine.” 

“I’m not saying I agree with their goals, but I at least can say that they chose to fight of their own accord, and we shouldn’t downplay that.” Her demeanor remained as unwavering as ever, her voice never raising or shaking, though in comparison to Byleth, it seemed more... controlled—precise, even—and less awkward and wooden. As if she’d practiced her whole life for conversations like these. “You’ve heard Hubert talk about blind obedience for the sake of it before, and to be clear, I share his views on that. Personally, I think fighting for what you think is right, provided you’ve actually thought about it for yourself, is quite admirable, in its own way.” 

Linhardt gave a frustrated sigh. “That’s just... no. Fighting for some nebulous beliefs? What nonsense!” Why does no one around here actually value their lives? It’s just a waste of bodies, at that rate.” 

Felix reluctantly nodded. “Agreed. I can get behind fighting for you own desires, that’s one thing, but I can’t respect anything to do with battling till your last breath. Fighting for what you want and practically suicide couldn’t be more different. That said, I don’t entirely feel bad for killing them, but don’t tell me that their death was honorable, that’s a load of crap.” 

“It seems we’ll have to agree to disagree, Felix.” She birthed a resigned frown, looking like a disappointed parent. “Then again, considering what I _do_ know of you and your past, that’s to be expected, unfortunately.” 

“And what the hell do you claim to know about me?” Felix could feel a vein popping out of his forehead, his body began to violently shake and his skin reddened in fury. 

“I’m fully aware from both yourself and from others that you’ve lost a brother to a violent uprising.” Her demeanor continued to remain perfectly calm, no trace of irritation or worry on her face. “And considering your hatred of chivalry, I take it that his death had an impact on how you’ve felt about that culture, especially since you were surrounded by that. Am I wrong?” 

“You’re...” Felix found himself unable to rebut her comments, and clenched his fist in his growing frustration. Prattling on about his past, like she lived through what he did, it drove him wild, but what made him even more disgusted was that she was partly right. “That’s... not completely wrong, I’ll give you that. But let’s get this clear, right now.” He walked over and leaned towards her, glaring at her dead in the eyes. “Don’t try and prescribe to me how I feel. You don’t know me; we’ve talked only a handful of times. Quit pretending you’ve got me figured out, because you don’t.” 

She met him with a scowl of her own, though still maintaining complete, borderline inhuman control. “I’m not claiming to know every single detail about your life, just that I know a _bit_ about your past.” 

“Well, you sure don’t act like it.” Felix growled, finding himself even angrier than he usually gets. Even with Dimitri, he doesn’t get this furious, but there’s just something about Edelgard and her damned lacky’s words that completely drive him up a wall. 

“It’s nice to see Edelgard continues her signature, ‘nagging mom,’ routine.” Linhardt chimed in, sounding absolutely exhausted. 

And suddenly Edelgard’s tranquil state gave way to far more flustered, fragile side. “I-I can’t be _that_ bad, can I?” 

“Believe me when I say that I’m putting it lightly.” He hung his body over, yawning loudly. “Anyway, I’m going to get some sleep, finally. You two can continue your pointless ego battling. Nighty-night.” Linhardt soon disappeared, as Edelgard shook, if only slightly. 

Her breaths were slightly unstable, but she quickly centered herself, once more. “In any case... Felix, please don’t misunderstand what I’m trying to say. I don’t want to tell you how to feel, that’s just flagrant tyranny, speaking as someone on the cusp of becoming Emperor. I’m just here to give my point of view: that I think dying for what you believe isn’t wrong. You don’t have to agree, bu—” 

“You’re right, I don’t.” He immediately left for the woods, unsheathing his blade, before looking back at the tiny princess. “And here I thought I finally had someone I could respect.” 

“Not everyone thinks the exact same, Felix.” She crossed her arms. “And regardless, I still think we can find some common ground. Though, I see that you’ve had enough for one night, so I won’t press you, any further.” 

Felix said nothing and walked out into the forest, spending the better part of the night trying to keep his mind on his training, and nothing else. _Trying_ , being the key word. As his alone time went on, more invasive thoughts kept crawling into his psyche, like a band of cockroaches you just couldn’t exterminate all of, in time. Images of Glenn’s defiled body just wouldn’t leave, the terrors that he’d thought were suppressed would refuse to cease tormenting him. He ended up more agitated, than stimulated. And if he wasn’t thinking about that, his mind was on the disaster at Magdred Way. Yet again, another person ended up in the crossfire that is chivalry gloriously imploding on itself. 

**_Enough of this. Nothing’s working._ **

He stormed back to the campsite after a small handful of hours passed, something made much easier by the fact that the fire was still recklessly burning, as no one was there. At least, that’s what Felix thought was happening, but he found Edelgard, yawning and eyes underscored with unsightly bags of purplish-grey. 

“The hell are you still doing up?” Felix growled. 

Edelgard weakly scoffed. “Do you think the only reason I was out here was because I wanted to talk about the mission? I just couldn’t sleep, and I needed to be out in the open air.” 

He squinted his eyes. “I’m guessing insomnia is something you’ve put up with for a while now?” 

She nodded as the slightest twinge of discomfort had escaped her normally collected face. “Yes, for quite some time now. Let's just leave it at that.” 

Edelgard snuffed out the flame and crept to her tent, and Felix called out to her. “Wait.” 

She turned around to the weary warrior, whose eyes were now the size of boulders. “Did you seriously just keep yourself out here with the fire, so I wouldn’t get lost?” 

The Adrestian royal tiredly smiled at him. “Of course. We wouldn’t want you getting stuck out in the dark, while you haven’t gotten much sleep.” 

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He then sheepishly rubbed his neck, with cheeks turned a subtle pink. “But... thanks.” 

Edelgard donned a surprisingly friendly, sincere expression. “No problem, Felix.” 

Once she’d left, Felix went back into his own tent and collapsed on his sleeping bag, still finding himself looking up the the ceiling of his tent, unable to sleep. Though now his thoughts were on a completely different matter.

 _**I just can't get a read on that girl** _ **_._ **

For a girl the size of a chair, her presence was enormous, she was cold, calculating, and got under his skin in a way few others have been able to achieve. Compared to the boar, she kept in control of herself at all times, and he couldn't tell if it was a serious act or not. Maybe it was the self-assuredness in what she set that really riled him up, but something about her seemed off, to say the least. What kind of person would waste their hours staying up for someone she barely knew to come back? And since when has someone of her station ever given a damn about what the people below her want, especially someone who claims to also find honor in death? The princess seemed like a walking contradiction, cloaked behind an air of superiority. As aggravating as she was puzzling.

That said, for some reason, he couldn't help but believe her convictions, as confusing and infuriating as they may be. Felix lightly chuckled to himself as he finally drifted off into sleep.

_**Well, for as frustrating as she is, at least one of these future leaders actually seems to have a good head on their shoulders.** _

* * *

Dour, light grey clouds hung below the sky like an oppressive blanket, smothering everyone in its muggy, still air, as the funeral processions went underway. 

The short, but no less masculine Count Rowe stood over Lonato’s grave, tensing his fist tight. His normally tousled, brown-and-grey hair was slicked back, highlighting his ever-growing widow’s peak. What few tears that escaped is harsh eyes ended up soaking his neatly trimmed beard, and he ground his teeth, trying to remain composed. 

His knight, Lord Gwendal, stayed completely still, his face unchanging, though his brown eyes gave way to the sobriety underneath. He held one arm in front of his armored body. It seems even when commemorating someone’s death, he still wears the same knightly garb he’s said to always don, always ready and able for his lord. 

Colin and Shauna, meanwhile, let the tears fly all over the place, sobbing and holding onto their adoptive mother, Valerie, who was equally distraught, loudly crying out over her husband’s grave. 

Colin, unlike either Shauna or Ashe, was too young to remember anything about their original parents, so Lonato was effectively the only father he’d ever known, and the pain of losing a father for the first time struck the child hard. While the likes of Rowe kept his hair back, Colin’s dark grey mop of hair remained the same, albeit now it was considerably wilder, on account of him breaking down. 

Shauna, having just turned 15 and already with the experience of losing a parent, composed herself better, but her violet eyes still turned red from tears. Even through her crying, however, she remained a lot more composed than Colin or her adoptive mother, but still couldn’t fully contain her sorrow, the mascara on her eyes seeped ever so slightly, 

Valerie, however, was in complete hysterics, dressed in jet black all across her body, she balled and wailed into the sky, her running makeup caking her wrinkling face, as yet another of her greatest loves had passed on. 30 years of love between her and Lonato were cruelly snuffed out for all eternity, the two maybe never able to meet again, after receiving the Goddess’s judgment. 

Ashe, forcing himself to remain strong, only could look on in sadness as he restrained himself from breaking down into tears again. Now, he’s the leading man of House Gaspard, or rather, what’s left of it, and trying as it may be for him to do so, putting on a brave face for his family was all he really could do. He clenched his fist, the only way he could really express his sorrow and disappointment in himself. Even after all that work that he put in, the hours he stayed up at night fearing for his father’s life, none of it mattered, in the end. If anything, he probably only made Lonato suffer even more. 

The procession itself lasted only a short while, but by the Goddess, did it ever feel like to longest, most miserable eternity Ashe could be subjected to. It just kept going, and going, and _going_ , and it made the agony of the whole mess even worse. Once Lonato’s casket had been sent down, Ashe placed a bouquet of violets down on his body, the same flowers he and his father loved to pick in the gardens of Gaspard. Even knowing he wanted to give Lonato one last thing that they could both share, the boy couldn’t feel hollower. What good does this gesture mean, when he’s partly to blame for this? Who does he think he’s making happy, by doing this? 

These feelings continued to persist as he began to shovel dirt over Lonato’s casket, now having to bury the body of the man he couldn’t protect. He watched as his father’s new resting place became caked in mud, until there was nothing left to see, beyond a layer of dark brown. Now, Lonato was officially gone from his sight for all time, never to greet his son’s eyes, or anyone else’s, ever again. 

Once everything had wrapped up and most of the onlookers had evacuated, Ashe stood right next to the headstone, holding himself back, trying not to fall into another sobbing heap, as he did only a couple days before. 

“Ashe...” He turned to find Shauna behind him, gripping her hands out in front of her. “Ar-are you really going back there?” 

His line of sight fell to the dirt, unable to make eye contact with her. “Yeah, I am. I can’t waste this opportunity that the goddess gav—” 

“That she gave you!?” She shouted, her voice cracking and anguished. “After she put us out on the streets and killed our parents, including Lonato? She’s been taking from us more than she’s...” The girl stopped herself, immediately taking on a countenance of guilt. “Sorry, it’s just—it’s just that this keeps happening to us, I don’t know if I can believe in that, anymore...” 

She quickly shook her head. “I should probably stop that. Wouldn’t want to be the next one on their chopping block.” 

“Shauna!” Ashe frightfully yelled, taken aback by her brazenness. “You can’t just say that! After everything Lonato did for us. After the goddess saved us from the streets, she—” 

“You mean after she put us out on there?” Shauna spat, with her eyes overflowing with water. “I’m supposed to be thankful that she finally gave us somewhere to live after you were forced to work so you, Colin and I could barely survive, for years? Where was the goddess when we were all starving, when we had to sit out in the cold, in the middle of the night, worrying about frostbite? Where was she when Lonato—” She stopped herself, breathing unstably. “Why does she keep wanting to hurt us?” 

Those last words from her stopped Ashe dead in his tracks. Why, after how much blood and sweat he and his family put in, after all of the years they prayed to the goddess and worshipping the ground she walked on, does this keep happening? And not just to them, either. 

“I’m sorry, I know you’re also hurting from this, I just...” She began to start softly crying, breaking his heart in two. “We keep being told that being good followers will do good for us, but when is that going to start happening? The Book of Seiros says that she cares and protects those that are beautiful, are we not enough for her?” 

“I...” It took everything in him even just to regurgitate that out, there was nothing he could say that could really argue with her. The pit in his stomach grew larger, like an ever-expanding abyss that had no discernable end. 

“I’m going to head back now, sorry.” She walked away, sniffling and quietly weeping to herself, while Ashe sat down, right next to the grave, burying his head on top of his knees, forcing himself not to cry, no matter how hard it may be.

_ Am... am I the reason this keeps happening? Is this my punishment for my life as a thief? Goddess, why couldn't you have taken it out on me and not him... _

He spent maybe hours, just plopped right beside Lonato's grave, thinking over and over again about his sister's words. Why does this keep happening? How many more people he cares about are going to get hurt? Weren't his original parents and Christophe enough? What did he do wrong, to deserve everyone around him to suffer like this?

By the time he'd finally left, those thoughts continued to fester, to build up in his head. By the time he'd made it back to the monastery, all he could think about was how much of a powerless, cursed fool he really is.

* * *

Within the Blue Lions classroom, everything was uncomfortably quiet and dour. Everyone was waiting for Hanneman, and there was nary a hint of merriment or even solace, everyone simply sat in their seats, unable to say a word. 

Ashe had forced himself to come in, but Felix could tell he still was holding up horribly. The boy stared down at his desk with a tormented look in his eyes, not even crying or showing sorrow, only blankness. In fact, that was the strongest emotion he was feeling. Though sorrow and grief were a part of it, what had really taken hold of him was just a dull, aching emptiness. Even getting out of bed in the morning was a struggle, as the motivation just wasn’t there. But here he was, slumped over in his seat, still feeling barely anything at all. 

Before Felix could talk to him, however, Hanneman walked into the room, with an air of sympathetic mourning all over his face. “Good day, class. I’m glad to see you all here, this morning.” 

He slowly walked to his desk as the rest of the class merely looked to Ashe, still staring off into the distance with his widened, empty eyes. 

Once Hanneman placed his books down and looked up to the class, he winced while his voice carried in immense reluctance. “I swear to you, I want to cover this subject as little as you want to hear about it...” He groaned and place his fingers by his temple. “But we have to just get this over with, unfortunately. The next few lessons will cover... ugh, the Tragedy of Duscur.” 

Felix and Ingrid gave vile glare’s in Dedue’s direction, as somberness clouded his face. Dimitri gave a disgusted look back at the two. Sylvain, on the other hand, looked wildly uncomfortable, next to Ingrid, tugging at his collar as he cleared his throat. Annette and Mercedes also looked deeply uneasy, with the two also giving sympathetic looks to Ashe and Dedue. As for Ashe, himself, he slightly flinched and let out a small whimper, but otherwise remained very still. 

“I’m so sorry we have to do this, but it’s mandated by the church that I do so.” The professor gritted his teeth and began to open his book. 

“Do we really _have_ to do this?” Felix croaked, rubbing his temple. 

“To my—and I’m sure everyone else’s—displeasure, yes.” 

The class went on for a good long while as Hanneman’s increasing apprehension hung over the entire lesson, as did the Blue Lions’. Nobody could really look up, and if anybody (Ingrid and Felix) was looking anywhere, it was at Dedue, as if placing the blame onto him, specifically, for the Tragedy. 

Once Hanneman had transitioned over to talking about Duscur's supposed hand in the slaughter, Sylvain raised his hand. “You mind if I ask something?” 

The aging man adjusted his monocle. “Does this actually have to do with what we’re talking about, young man?” 

Sylvain let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry, I actually have something I want to ask about this thing.” He leaned forward, cupping his hands together. “So, how big exactly was the Kingdom’s army, when they went over in the first place?” 

Hanneman placed a hand to his chin. “Well, it’s hard to imagine it wouldn’t be quite sizable, given that the king, his wife, and the prince were all in one place.” 

Sylvain turned his gaze to Dedue. “So, Dedue, if I may ask, does Duscur exactly have an enormous military force?” 

Immediately, the whole class, Ashe and Felix included, turned around to him with bemused expressions. 

**_Where the hell is he going with this?_ **

“Duscur isn’t particularly large, and for that matter, neither is our armed forces.” The giant had his eyes squinted, unsure of Sylvain’s intention. 

The flirt held a hand below his face. “So, would you say that their military would feasibly be able to take down the king’s army, all on their own?” 

“I...” Dedue’s face transformed into supreme surprise, while Dimitri bore a look of shock and a dash of pride. “Considering the gap between Faerghus and Duscur in both strength and number, the likelihood seems small.” 

“So, why are we blaming you guys?’ Sylvain produced a sincere smile, something no one on the goddess’s blue earth though was possible. “Because it seems like to me that they couldn’t have done it one their own, don’t you think.” He guffawed as he leaned back in his chair. “Hey, but what do I know, right?” 

“So, you’re implying that there may have been other people involved in the tragedy?’ Hanneman asked, incredulously, though the faintest glimmer of a grin was on his face. 

“I mean, just going off of what we actually know about Duscur and the Kingdom, it doesn’t seem like it.” Sylvain shrugged and pointed at Ingrid and Felix. “Look, I’ve just been getting an eyeful of how these two were looking at Dedue, and it got me thinking, that’s all. I mean, there’s probably a few people in Duscur who didn’t like Faerghus, before everything went down, but I’m fairly sure that not _everyone_ there had some grudge to let out. And hey, with Duscur being a smaller power, it makes them a damn good scapegoat, does it not?” 

Everyone’s mouths in the room dropped to the floor, with the exception of Felix, who appeared more annoyed, than in awe. “So, you finally think about something other than harassing women, and it’s to tell me that this entire thing was a farce?” 

“You got a better explanation?” Sylvain crossed his arms. “If you do, please, tell me how I’m wrong. I’m just _begging_ to hear a rebuttal.” 

“Who do you think could actually cause this tragedy then?” Felix growled. “You want to tell me his kind aren’t responsible, then who the hell is? What do you possibly think could’ve—” He looked over to Ingrid, gesturing his hand at her. “Come on, I know you’re on my side with this.” 

Her face turned a stark pale, and she began to fiddle around with her golden braid. “I... I don’t know Felix, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually think he has a point, here.” 

The prejudicial noble grumbled to himself in resignation. 

**_Even you, huh?_ **

“Just leave him alone already.” Ashe lowly growled, his quiet fury building. “Even if the Tragedy was caused by the people of Duscur, that doesn’t give you the right to blame everyone there, Felix.” 

“You're going to tell me the deserve recou—” And when Felix looked at the boiling rage that had enveloped Ashe, he closed his mouth, moving back from the boy. 

“I understand the horrors that happened in Duscur were terrible, my brother and father were victims too, so shut your damn mouth about people deserving to get hurt, for it! Don't you think enough people suffered from the Tragedy? Maybe try and actually think about how other people were hurt by it, you as—"

Ashe noticed the concern written on everyone’s faces, from his wrathful screams, and immediately grabbed his things. “I-I’m sorry... I still don't think I’m ready, today. I should be going...” He left the room in a matter of seconds, his hair cloaking his eyes, but still leaving his crimson cheeks unhidden. 

Everyone but Mercedes and Dedue scowled at Felix, and he turned his head to his desk, embarrassed. Throughout the rest of the class, basically no one spoke up, just wanting to get the day done and over with. 

By the time the day’s lesson had ended, Felix rubbed his temples in aggravation, both at the world and himself. 

**_Way to go, Felix. Way to go._ **

When he looked up, he saw Sylvain peering over his desk. “What could you possibly want, Sylvain?” 

“Are you doing alright? I mean, I get Ashe wigging out, but you—” 

“I’m fine.” Felix gripped his books and began to leave, before Sylvain lightly grabbed his shoulder. “You sure? You seem even more tense than usual, and you’ve never been this... well, seething before about Duscur.” 

“It’s just been on my mind far too much, lately, now let me go.” Felix forcibly rocked his shoulder, making the philanderer let loose his grip. 

As he left, Sylvain called out to him, “Is it because of your last mission?” 

Felix breathed in deeply and his body began to very marginally waggle. He turned to Sylvain with a frown filled with indignation. “Yes, now can you get off my case, already? Why do you even care about this in the first place? And why do you only decide to actually use your intellect when it's to piss me off?” 

“What can I say? You make it easy. And _really_ fun...” Sylvain maddeningly simpered, holding his hands behind his head. “And also... well, you know how House Gautier and Sreng are kind of having a lover’s quarrel, right now. I have to spend a lot of time looking into that place, if I’m going to rule over it, someday. You learn a thing or two about the strength of a nation that size, and Duscar isn’t exacty enormous, if you catch my meaning.” He dropped the facetious, carefree act he was putting on and grew more frigid, in his disposition, “And you aren’t dumb, either. You have to see that I know what I’m talking about.” 

“Maybe so...” Admitting that he agreed with that lech was nauseating, and it being over _Duscur’s_ innocence just made him want to punch a hole through a wall. “Ugh, you actually might have a point, there.” 

Sylvain wiped his eyes and sniffled, heightening his voice to obnoxious levels. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Felix.” 

The younger noble struck him with his elbow, while Sylvain laughed in his usual aggravating, sophomoric way. 

“I just wish you’d actually use your brain for something other than ‘how can I annoy this woman or Felix.’ Why must you constantly act like a fool, when you, Ingrid, and I all know that isn't you?” 

The ginger headache once again wore his façade of a smile. “‘Fraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, you're seeing the real me, buddy. Though since you’ve oh-so-graciously given me such flattering praise, you need someone to spar with? You look like you need someone to help you cool off. Wouldn't want you to unleash Ashe's angry side again.”

Felix hmphed, turning his back to him. “Sure, you seem like a good punching bag.” 

Sylvain smugly popped his collar and mugged like an utter jackass. “Oh, sweet! Two compliments in one day? That’s a new record! My little Felix really is warming up to me, after all this time.” 

Felix gave out a loud, disgusted noise, as Sylvain continued to act like an insufferable dolt right up to the very end of their sparring session. Loathe as the warrior is to admit it, however, there was something... comforting about Sylvain’s constant badgering. He’ll sooner die than tell that womanizer, but he somehow made their training as bearable as it did _un_ bearable. It at least helped keep his mind off things, for the time being.

Ashe, meanwhile, sat within the cathedral, all by his lonesome, praying to the goddess for guidance, asking her for forgiveness for his past fit and whatever else he did to deserve the pain he'd been put through. He stayed for several hours, and the observers would just keep on moving, not wanting to disturb him, which he couldn't decide whether he appreciated or hated. In spite of his pleas, the aching continued to smolder within his heart. At this point, what could anyone really do to stop it?

* * *

It’s been five days since Ashe’s outburst in Hanneman’s classroom. Ever since then, he’d been doing a collective two things: trting to converse with the goddess in the cathedra, which seemed to be an increasingly impossible task, and retreating to his room, when he felt nothing could be accomplished in worship. The days just blended together, making everything feel like one long-lasting nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. To even call it a nightmare is being too kind, because at least that has the decency of making him feel something, _anything_ that could get his energy to spike up. Forcing himself to train was just a slog, his brain was too scattered and foggy to let him read, and his appetite was low enough that he only ate a handful of meals throughout the week. Any optimism and drive the commoner once had was now eroded into dust. 

The Blue Lions class felt his absence and the awkwardness of the entire situation, and it seemed like all he was going to do was isolate himself in his sorrow, being more reclusive than even Bernadetta on a bad day. Not much was said during the lessons, and a dour air dangled above the class like a cloud of dark grey. 

And Felix couldn’t stand it, anymore. Drowning himself in the past is going to do nothing but keep him shackled to it, like those idiot knights. Dimitri, Ingrid, Rodrigue, everyone back in Faerghus clings to it without moving on, and he wasn’t about to let the same happen to Ashe. Their damned homeland is already self-pity, nestled in grief, wrapped in crushed lives, and seeing one more soul become like that sickened Felix to his very core. If no one else is going to grow a pair and snap that kid out of his melancholy, it might as well be him. 

He stormed out of class the moment it ended with a fierce look on his face, and Ingrid wasn’t too far behind him. “Felix, are you alri—” 

“I am, he isn’t.” He coarsely interrupted. “The only way Ashe is going to move on from Lonato is if we get him to, ourselves. I’m not letting him wallow, anymore. You and I both know that locking himself away isn't going to fix anything.” 

“I—Felix!” She shouted before stopping herself right in front of him. “Don’t you think we should let him wait, a little bit? I don't think he should be holed up forever, obviously, but he _just_ lost his father. At least give him a few more—” 

“What good is that going to do?” He growled. “The dead aren’t going to console you, to make you feel better. If he doesn’t move on now, he never will. There are enough braindead idiots back in Faerghus who obsess over death. Trust me, I know this more than anyone, I’m not going to allow him to spiral. Everyone else keeps telling him it’s alright to stay like this, to not accept that the dead are dead and get on with their lives, and that’s only going to make him worse off. Someone needs to help him get a grip, and no one else is going to do it.” 

Ingrid’s face changed from worried to downright furious, she clamped her teeth and balled her hands into shaking fists. “He’s suffering, and your first thought is to scream at him to get him to stop!? Not everyone moves on from grief, that easily, Felix!” 

“It’s how I got over it.” He snarled, baring his teeth. “I got over grief because I stopped obsessing over death. I got over it because I made myself man up and put it behind me. It hurt. It hurt like hell, but I got through it and I’m going to sort this out.” He turned towards the steps and picked up speed, though the faster Ingrid once again maneuvered around him. 

“Let. Him. Be.” 

“I. Will. Not.” Felix looked over by Ashe’s room to find Caspar, knocking meekly on his door, and shoved Ingrid out of the way, jumping past the staircase. He pushed Caspar out of the way, “Move, I’ve got this, now.” 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Ingrid bellowed, ripping Felix away from Ashe’s bedroom door. “I also know what it’s like to be grieving, for the same reasons you do. You've seen me after what happened to Glenn, and you also know that I didn’t get better by someone screaming at me to move on! At least give him a few more days!” 

“You still haven—” Felix’s anger was bubbling, and his patience has worn dangerously thin, but for once in his life, he decided to practice tact and not finish his statement. Albeit only so he doesn't end up getting into yet another argument about Glenn, with Ingrid. “Quit letting him feel sorry, for himself.” 

“What are you all doing here?” Ashe called out, laying on his backside. 

“Getting you out of this funk.” Felix shouted through the doorway. “Ashe, you need to get ahold—” 

“Felix, that’s enough!” Ingrid yelled. “Just get out of here, already!” 

“Go ahead, try to make me.” He angrily shot back. 

Caspar interjected himself between the two. “Uh, guys, maybe not the best time to have a screaming match, alright?” 

“You all, I’m thankful that you want to help me out, but I’m just not feeling up to it, at the moment.” Ashe murmured, from his bed. 

Felix smacked portal as hard as he could. “You aren’t going to get anywhere by sitting around and moping about it. Trust me, I would know. Do you want to sit around, while you could be—” 

Ingrid yanked him back, gripping right behind his collarbone and holding him down with one arm. She glared at him with all of the fury in the world, in her eyes. “Felix, that's enough,” she growled as she threw Felix behind her and onto the cobblestone floor below. 

He rubbed his neck and shoulder, in discomfort, before storming back to the steps with a wrathful look. “You want to try that again, Ingrid?” 

Ingrid moved down the steps, also bearing a fiery expression. “I don’t know, Felix, do you want to keep testing me?” 

Caspar once again made himself as the barrier between the two, shouting, “Hey, you guys, break it—” 

The height-challenged boy took one look at Ingrid and immediately began to sport an extraordinarily wide smile. “Break... I got it!” He moved all the way to the stone wall a few feet away from Ashe’s room and began to stretch his legs, before preparing for a running start. “All right, Ashe, if you don’t want to come out, we’ll just have to bust a way in!” He howled at the top of his lungs, rushing to the dorms at full tilt. 

Ingrid looked on in terror before running in to stop the loud noble. “Caspar—wait, no!” 

“YEEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!” Caspar bounded into the air as he reached the steps, before tilting his feet in front of him. He smashed his boots against the door and crashed right through it, landing on Ashe’s floor, while the latter released a high-pitched scream of terror. 

Caspar pulled himself up and kneaded his back. “Ugh, I just wanted to knock the door down, not go right through it...” 

“Caspar, what the hell are you doing?” Byleth austerily called out, from behind the two Faerghus nobles. “I heard screaming and I—” She turned over to Ingrid and squinted, in annoyance. “Did you tell him to do this, Ingrid?” 

The blonde knight gave an exasperated, offended expression. “I had nothing to—why do you think _I_ told him to do that!?” 

“Bernadetta told me about how you broke down her door to get her to class.” The mercenary crossed her arms and tiredly sighed. “I respect that you’re trying to help, but I don’t want the higher-ups to start breathing down your neck, because you keep vandalizing monastery property.” 

“ _It wasn’t me_! Professor, I promise you that I was trying to get them to _not_ do something like this. I'm not about to push Ashe to .” 

Felix folded his arms as well and sighed. “She’s telling the truth, that was Caspar’s idea. That said, now that we can actually get him out of his room...” 

Byleth shook her head and groaned before marching up to Ashe’s dorm. She pointed her thumb behind her. “Caspar, out. Now.” 

Caspar shouted out, “But Profes—” 

And one look from her stern glare was enough to shut him up, immediately. The cyan-haired boy sheepishly rubbed his head and quietly walked out of the room. 

A terrified Ashe looked up at Byleth as she extended her hand out to him. “Hey, you want to talk somewhere that’s less... hectic?” 

“I...” He reluctantly took her hand. “Sure, I kind of have nowhere else to be at the moment, it seems.” 

Once she pulled him up and got him out of the room, Byleth pointed at the other three students. “You three are going to have to patch up this door, while we’re gone. I don’t care who was the cause, just get it done, understood?” 

Ingrid gave a resigned groan and nodded her head, dragging Felix along with her, while Caspar had already begun picking up the pieces. 

Byleth gestured her head to the south. “Say, you any good at fishing, Ashe? I know a good spot out front we could use.” 

“S-sure. I'd be happy to.” He lightly smiled at her, before following her to the pier. 

While the two left, Felix grumbled as he began to pick up the broken splinters. “We could’ve just avoided this if only _somebody_ didn’t try to stop me.” 

“You were trying to pressure him into not being able to grieve!” Ingrid yelled back at him, before looking apprehensively down at the remains of Ashe’s doorframe.

“I don't see why suddenly breaking down his door to talk some sense into him is so bad, when you were more than happy with doing it before..." Felix grumbled, looking at the hold through several angles, analyzing where to even begin.

Ingrid sharply inhaled as she closed her eyes, clenching her fists tight. “I didn't think I needed to explain that getting someone to stop fearing the outside and screaming in your friend's face for not coming to terms with their father dying are two different things, but here we are, I suppose. Apparently, Sylvain isn't the only one I have to keep from doing something rash.”

Before either of the two could get into yet another fight, Caspar interjected with a voice full of worry. “So, what do you think is going to happen?” 

“Here’s hoping she can speak some sense into him.” Felix grabbed one of the planks of wood and simply jammed it back in the hole. Once he tried to stuff more in, all of the wood summarily fell through the gaping opening. “How does she expect us to cram this thing shut, anyway?” 

* * *

Ashe and the professor sat on the docks with fishing rods in hand as the cool winds of the evening gently blew into their faces. They sat there for what felt like ages, neither really saying anything, just letting the tranquil quiet envelop them, for the longest time. He kept dourly looking at the water, seeing the face of one of his father’s killers staring back at him: his own. 

After enough time had passed, Ashe turned to Byleth. “You asked if I wanted to talk, Professor?” 

The mysterious woman lightly smiled at him. “Yep. I was just waiting for when you wanted to, kid. I came over to see how you were holding up, and it seems I got beaten to the punch—er, kick, this time.” 

Ashe softly chuckled and his face slowly began to lighten. “Yeah, I can’t say I expected to have a literal break-in, today.” He glanced back down into the waters below. “I... I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Everywhere I go, everything I do, all of that reminds me of him. I’m so lost about what to do, Professor.” 

“I can only imagine.” She somberly nodded. “You've mentioned before how much you love the man, and I can’t even begin to think of a world wi—” She cut herself off, furiously shaking her head. “Anyway, how is your family holding up? Did they make it out, alright?” 

“Thankfully, yes, they made it out alive. A nearby church is taking them and my adoptive mother in, for the time being. It’s been quite a relief, though now I don’t know what’ll happen to them next...” He felt a bite, but by the time he could even work up the will to yank at it, both the fish and bait were off the hook, and he was stuck having to reset his lure. 

She peered at him with her concerned, deep blue eyes. “I’m guessing they all aren’t feeling the best, though. What did they say, when...” 

“The second they learned, all they could do was cry for hours on end, especially Mom. Now that Lonato’s gone, all she has are me and my siblings, and I'm responsible for her husband dying, so I can’t blame her for being so distraught. Even when I left, she couldn’t really say anything and kept crying in her room...” His breath began to shake as he, himself, could barely hold himself together. “And poor Colin has been a mess, as well. He and I barely could even say goodbye to each other. Shauna’s taking it a bit better, but that's not saying all that much, and everyone else back there all were extremely sad to see Lonato go...” 

“Everybody back home seems to love him.” She sorrowfully turned her head to the pond, tightening her grip on the pole. “And you’ve already mentioned that you aren’t doing so hot, yourself.” 

A few tears slipped out of the Ashe's eyes, and he had to force himself to keep calm. “No, I’m really not...” He put his fishing rod right next to him and looked at Byleth, quivering as he spoke, “Professor, what do I do? I can’t—I can’t get past this. I want to stop hurting like I do, but it won’t go away. Do you have any idea how to make it stop?” 

Byleth sharply exhaled as she glanced briefly to the sky, before looking back down at Ashe, placing one hand on his shoulder. “I... well, I can’t say I’ve gone through losing a father, like you have, let me ask you this. Do you think that continuing to stay in your room like this is going to make it go away? Will shutting yourself out from everyone put those thoughts out of your mind, or are you just letting them fester?” 

Ashe struggled to find the proper words for what felt like forever, before finally muttering out, “Well, I guess I’m not really making things better by hiding away...” 

“And is this getting you to where you want to be?” Her voice became increasingly firmer, sounding less friendly and more authoritative. “Will dwelling on this constantly do push you further to your dream?” 

“I—” And just like that, he immediately snapped out of his fragile state. “No, it won’t.” 

“And do you think that this will be how you can help your family and the people you want to save? Are you going to be able to carry on and be a protector to the weak, if you’re not letting yourself grow?” 

He rose from the pier and looked her square in the eyes. “No, I’m not.” 

Byleth quickly stood up, herself, adopting a stern position over him. “So, Ashe, are you going to keep doing what you’re doing, or are you going to pull yourself together, and work to prevent something like this from happening again? Are you going to get out there and work your ass off, so that no one has to go through what you just did?” 

With a fire burning in his heart, he replied, “I’m going to work to make sure I can stop these injustices before they can even happen!” 

She proudly grinned and lightly jabbed his shoulder. “Good. I knew you had it in you, it just took a little push. I know you’ve got a tough spirit kiddo, don’t let that get taken down by one thing.” 

“I... thank you, Professor.” He bowed with a smile on his face. “No matter what happens, I promise that I’ll do my part to grow.” 

He suddenly heard his rod rattling and immediately dove for it, before it could drop into the water. Whatever was biting was quite the hefty animal, and it wouldn’t give him an easy fight. 

“Easy there, don’t fight against it, try to use its movements to your advantage. Keep the reel up when you do it, too.” 

“A-alright!” Ashe shouted, trying to loosen his body, a task easier said than done. He aimed the rod towards the air and began to really start reeling in. If he actually had some strength in his arms, it would be a lot less cumbersome, but eventually the frantic fish just barely made it to the docks, snapping Ashe’s fishing rod, in the process. 

The creature was enormous and shone a brilliant platinum, floundering on the earth before the boy pulled it up with both hands. “All right, the first thing we’re going to do to start my journey is to grill up this fish!” Ashe declared with complete sincerity in his voice. 

“Pfft—” Byleth held her fist by her mouth, holding back a sort of giggle. “I’m sorry, you just got so earnest tha—” She began to stiffly chuckle in a noticeably subdued manner, but that didn't stop Ashe from blushing a deep red.

“I-I was just trying to—” 

She put her hand on his shoulder smiling up to him. “No, don’t worry about it, you did nothing wrong.” The merc looked over at the platinum fish with a glint in her eye that Ashe only saw when Ingrid witnessed his cooking. “So, you were saying about cooking this thing up? I could really use the thing, given I’m eating for two.” 

Ashe barely processed what he was hearing, before his eyes began to swell to the size of a mountain. 

Byleth, upon seeing this, turned pink in the cheeks, and she shook her head. “No, I’m not actually—I was just making a dumb joke to my—you know what? Let’s just forget I said that.” 

After pausing for a moment, Ashe shrugged and began to take the fish to the cafeteria, with Byleth in tow. He could swear he heard her disconcerted mumbling, though he couldn’t make out what she was saying beyond, “... alright, I get it, so...” 

_She’s probably just talking to herself._

* * *

That very night, Ashe was pulling himself up from the earth, as he reeling from being sent flying by Beithir yet again. For too long, has that damn wyvern been flinging him through the air like a rag doll and by the goddess, he’s not going to let it break him. 

The lilac wyvern fired its bright blue spiral of flames and Ashe only just barely managed to dodge. 

“Hey, Ashe, don’t ya think you’ve had enough?” Cyril shouted from aloft his jet-black dragon. 

“No, I’ve still got some fight within me!” The archer shouted, brushing the dirt off his face. “Seriously though, thank you for letting me in, this late.” 

“I needed some training with Alastor, too, and if it helps someone working for Lady Rhea, I don’t mind.” 

Compared to Ashe, who spent a grand total of over three months having his body constantly immolated and thrashed by Beithir, Cyril managed to handle his wyvern in a matter of hours. The child was infinite potential personified. If you give him something to do (that wasn’t related to textbooks), he’ll probably have already learned how to do it better than you can, by the time you’ve finished giving him instructions. 

Before they could keep conversing, the raging wyvern started hissing flames, cutting the two off. However, Ashe noticed something very unusual about Beithir: he seemed to be almost... enjoying this? The more time he spent with that dragon, Ashe noticed it roaring as he shouted at it. It would spin around in the air, every time the boy was catapulted into the ground or a nearby tree. And whenever it released its fire breath, at him, Beithir’s streams were noticeably subdued, compared to when they’d started out. 

And then it hit Ashe. 

_He j_ _ust_ _likes roughhousing, doesn’t he?_

To test his theory, Ashe slapped his legs and motioned for Beithir to charge at him. “Alright Beithir, bring it on!” 

The serpentine revved its leg over and over, before bolting at full speed, screaming before lunging at the student. 

Ashe grinned and rolled out of the way, skidding his feet against the dirt as he regained his footing. Once he looked up, Beithir almost looked like it was performing so excited dance in the sky, breathing fire and almost looking like he was smiling, and Ashe chuckled to himself. 

_Great, now I think I know how to get him to listen to me._

Beithir swerved around to trample him once more, and he slid underneath the purple beast, before immediately jumping on its back, gripping the reigns as hard as he could and forcing Beithir to heel. 

For all of three minutes, before he was then thrown around once more, and Cyril immediately clutched him in the air, faster than he could blink. “That wyvern really doesn’t like you, huh? What did you do to make him so mad?” 

Ashe chuckled as Cyril dropped him to the ground. “You know, I’m starting to think he’s warming up to me—and not literally, this time.” 

Cyril looked at him, completely puzzled, before shrugging his shoulders. “If you say so, I guess. Anyway, you gonna hurry this up? I kinda need my sleep, if I don’t want to be half-dead before work, tomorrow.” 

“Just a few more minutes, then I promise I’ll wrap this up.” Ashe shouted upward, moving into a bracing stance. “If you want me to fight back, then come at me!” 

With that, Ashe bolted towards Beithir once again, and time after time again, he kept getting flung all over the place, but with each attempt, he just barely scrapes closer to finally mastering that wyvern, almost as a competition against himself. At this point, he’s in too deep just to give up, if he can’t conquer one dragon, how can he expect to get anywhere? It was his duty to better himself. 

It’s what Lonato would’ve wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Okay, I wasn't expecting a dialogue chapter to be nearly this huge. At least it makes the longer wait time worth it, I guess? I honestly just kept getting idea after idea that either replaced an old one or got scrapped entirely, and I ended up with this. Funny thing is, I was worried about not giving Felix enough to do, and suddenly he takes up more space in the grieving chapter than Ashe. Go figure.
> 
> \- So, [when looking at the Library text that mentions the beautiful being blessed by Sothis, I noticed it also says the goddess’s name shouldn’t be used in vain](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/library/4), and I’ve sort of used “goddess,” in the same way someone would use, “god,” as an exclamation, several times in this story. However, I technically didn’t use Sothis’s name, so I think the church would let that slide, right? Oh well, I’ve already dug that grave, might as well lie in it. 
> 
> \- Why yes, I did just give the wife of Lonato a name where the first two syllables are basically “valor,” because I’m about as low-key as an exploding jackhammer. And yes, she does make Ashe call her, “Mom”. As for Alastor, Cyril’s wyvern, I just wanted the ironic naming, kind of like how “Byleth,” is a corruption of a king of hell. It also can refer to divine vengeance, which considering who Cyril fights for (especially in Crimson Flower)... 
> 
> \- I’ve kind of been hammering home Felix’s more bigoted tendencies in this story, particularly his view on Duscur, mainly because I think it’s very underdiscussed and also only touched on a little, in-game. For as valid as his claims are against Faerghus, he also let some of their garbage views on certain groups of people slip in, and unlike Ingrid, he doesn’t really own up to that (minus his Leonie support, but that support is also his least offensive instance). I love the guy and don’t mean to do this out of spite, or anything, but the BL house and the Western Church subplot kind of hinge on Duscur, so I can’t really shy away from that (and I should stress, *for this subplot*, not the whole entire story). 
> 
> \- I promise, this dumb wyvern plotline will go somewhere and I won’t be dragging this out for the entirety of WC. I have my reasons for this story beat, beyond just eventually making Ashe a Wyvern Lord.


	13. In the Name of Judgment

“Well, well, well, it looks like the magnificent Claude wins yet again, as always.” 

“That’s funny, I seem to recall you just losing in our last bout, and the contest before that...” 

“Oh wow, you won a weight lifting competition, I’m so embarrassed to lose that to a guy who can blow up the ground by poking it with his lance. Tell me, who’s got the speed and aiming advantage?” 

“I’m not that much slower or inaccurate than you are, and my strength and defense easily dwarf anything you can muster. If we were actually on the battlefield, I think the results would be a lot different, Claude.” 

“Oh, that’s a laugh riot, coming from the guy who was the first of the house leaders to get his clocked cleaned in the mock battle. But sure, Your Princeliness, you could _totally_ beat me in a fight, let’s go with that.” 

“I also faced three people at once, two of them being both Professor Byleth and Edelgard, and I seem to recall you losing to them even with Ashe on your side. Quite frankly, _I_ would’ve done far better on my own than you would’ve.” 

“Well, I’ll have you know that I still did more damage to them than you ever did. In fact, I also netted four victories. How many did you notch, exactly? I think the number starts with a ‘z’...” 

“Through devious tactics, I might add. It’s not like you did all of that up front. In fact, you had to use three people as shields, just to get that far. You didn't get that far through honorably fighting people, you simply wimped out and had other people as your pawns.” 

“Ah yes, the old ‘honor and pride’ shpiel; frankly incredible behaviors of upstanding, brave men that I truthfully, honestly don’t care about emulating, even a little bit. If you care more about honor and less on survival, you’re just asking for someone smarter to take you down, Your Sovereignness.”

 **_When will those two just shut the hell up, already?_ **

The day was pleasantly cool, the sun shone, and the training ground was mostly empty, while almost everyone else had left to enjoy the day. It was a perfect time for Felix to get some training in, where everything wasn’t hot or loud. 

The keyword being _was_ , for Claude and Dimitri came in to have yet another of their daily ego-measuring contests. A constant back-and-forth of those two trying to prove who has the better aim, the smarter tactics, the stronger shots, the biggest appetite, et cetera, et cetera, _et cetera_. It even got to the point that Felix, a champion of competition, himself, started to get irritated by the incessant showboating. 

“Hey, Felix, you mind helping a guy out?” Claude asked holding his hands behind his head, ala Sylvain. “What do you think matters more in a fight? Brilliant schemes or smashing your head against a wall until you bleed out?” 

Without even missing a beat, Felix sheathed his blade and groaned. “Isn’t it obvious? You can’t just throw your weapons at something and hope it works. Only an idiot would think they could win through just flailing around their weapons and nothing else.” 

Claude smugly grinned in Dimitri’s direction as he twirled an arrow in his hand. “Oh, would you look at that? It seems that even one of the strongest warriors from your homeland agrees with me. A shame for you, Your Royalness.” 

Dimitri dismissively shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Of course. Use the man who’d tell me ‘no’ if I asked if I should still keep breathing.” 

“Quit exaggerating, boar.” Felix growled, gripping his folded arms in annoyance. “That said, I’ll also contest that you need to actually have a well-trained body to actually keep up with your foes, but a true warrior uses the options presented to him in order to win. But what do I know, I’m not focused solely on how badly I can mutilate someone, unlike a certain beast.” 

Dimitri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, while Claude started whistling to himself. 

“Don’t give me that response, I call it like I see it, and you’ve shown me you haven’t changed a bit, boar prince.” 

“Yeesh, I can just feel the love, here.” Claude pointed at the both of them. “This your guys’ way of showing how much you love each other, or...?” 

“Let’s just say we have a few... disagreements.” Dimitri’s face looked extremely uncomfortable as Felix scoffed at him. “After something happened in Faerghus that I’d rather not get into, Felix and I drifted apart, unfortunately.” 

“Sure, ‘a few disagreements,’ let’s call it that.” Felix snarled as his anger reached even greater heights. “And not that you’re a monster in human skin, who’d readily torture anybody he could lay his hands on. You know that you—” 

Claude slid in between the two, uninvited. “Okaaaay, I see that the blood between you guys has become a bit tainted...” He muttered under his breath. “Understatement of the century...” The alliance noble turned to Felix. “So, Felix, you need someone to train with?” He stretched out his arms and sarcastically sighed. “It’s just getting too easy, flooring His Beastliness, and I’ve heard you love a good fight.” 

Felix squinted his eyes, Claude’s behavior seemed oddly chummy, even for him, seemingly wanting something out of him that he couldn’t get otherwise. However, anything was better than dealing with Dimitri, so play along, he shall. “Alright, fine. Might as well see what cards you have up your sleeve.” 

Claude gave him an arrogant smirk, clicking his tongue. “Oh, we’ll see about that.” He swerved to Dimitri and saluted with two fingers. “Well, see you later, Your Princeliness! I’m gonna have a go at your dear friend. Say, how do you want to get trounced tomorrow? Horseback riding?” 

Dimitri crossed his arms letting out a cocky guffaw. “Ah yes, riding, something I’d been trained in for quite some time by my own family. The same family that houses a long line of paladins. I’ll take that challenge, but it’s your funeral.” 

Claude pointed a thumb at himself, playfully smirking at his rival. “Hey, I’ve been dragged around by a horse or four plenty of times in my day, I know how those things work. Just watch me as I floor you in your own element.” 

“I look forward to the demolition that’s to come.” The royal waved and walked away from the both of them. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Felix,” he called out, and the battle-hardened noble merely averted his eyes, not wanting to even acknowledge his existence anymore. 

Once the two were finally alone, Felix immediately readied his weapon, glaring at Claude and keeping a cautious stance. “So, what do you want from me, exactly? You don’t seem like the type to want to spar with anyone but the boar.” 

The future duke winked at him as he spun around his arrow in his hand. “Oh, you know, you just make me a bit curious, that’s all. From what I’ve looked into you, you seem to love going against the grain in Faerghus, am I right?” 

He flipped his arrow in the air and Felix tensed his whole body, waiting for Claude’s phenomenally quick shot. “I don’t get why that suddenly makes me so interesting, you kind of sound like one of those Black Eagles, by saying that.” 

The moment Claude’s arrow entered the bow, the swordsman dashed to the side, but he didn’t account for his foe delaying his fire. By the time he realized this, the bolt was too close for him to dodge, and his feet skid against the floor, while the wind was knocked out of him. Claude was only a moderately powerful archer, but he knew exactly when and where to hurt somebody, and before Felix knew it, he found himself ripping the agonizing arrow from his upper abdomen. 

The grin on Claude’s face widened, but the calculating look in his eyes betrayed that seemingly haughty expression. “It’s not like that, I just find it refreshing to see some different perspectives from other places. What can I say? Getting a look into some other mindsets is a fascination of mine.” 

Before lobbing another attack at Felix, Claude held up a finger. “I have a proposition for you: for each hit one of us lands, they get to ask a question, and the other has to answer.” He flicked a dart into the sky. “Sound like a good deal?” 

Felix analyzed where the arrow was falling, as well as where Claude was pointing his bow, and cockily raised his brow. “Hmph. Someone’s confident. Fine, I’ll play your little game. Just don’t get upset when your whole life story is laid bare.” 

“Oh, I’d _love_ to see you get more than a peep out of me.” 

Felix paused as the arrow fell perfectly into place, gauging when the man of mystery would strike, and once he just faintly saw him tighten up, Felix darted to the right, as an arrow just barely passed by his cheek. 

He smirked as he charged full tilt, zigzagging left and right to throw Claude off. However, his adversary’s confidence wouldn’t waver, and before Felix knew it, he found his right shoulder flare up in extreme pain from another strike, and he let out a short, forceful scream. 

Claude flashed his teeth as pompously as possible. “Alright, first question: what did Dimitri do to make you so disgusted with him? You mentioned him ‘torturing anyone he could get his hands on.’” 

Felix pulled himself from the ground, grunting as he yanked yet another arrow out of his body. “When he and I were suppressing a rebellion a while back, he reveled in the killing. He smiled and cackled while he violated every last enemy with his weapons. The way he moved and grinned wasn’t human, and neither was what he did to those bodies.” He quickly shuddered, before just as swiftly trying to suppress his fear. “It’s not exactly an image I can easily put into words.” 

The bowman walked back slightly and gave a semi-alarmed look. “Yeesh, you’ve got a sadist for a ruler, huh? Sounds to me like Faerghus is in good hands.” 

“That’s putting it lightly.” While Claude was visibly unnerved, Felix swung his blade, and Claude slid underneath, taking his legs out from under him. Felix used his hands to catch himself and flip back on his feet, only to take a shot to the back. 

“Question two: I’ve been hearing about the madness going on in the kingdom—pillaging, murders, bandits, you get the idea. Why doesn’t your prince just take the throne already? Or better yet, why doesn’t the church intervene?” 

“That’s two questions per one hit, first off.” Felix’s breaths became increasingly short and labored, even though he was only struck three times, his entire body rung with a sharp pain all throughout, making even just talking a grueling endeavor to overcome. “Second, do you think I haven’t told him to just man up and take it? Because he won’t be of ‘proper’ age until late into the Ethereal Moon, he’s not ascending until after graduation, because tradition wouldn’t allow it. That idiot doesn’t understand that we’re kind of on the brink of chaos at the moment, and he’s our only shot.” 

“Huh.” Immediately, Felix was greeted by yet another shot, and his head smacked against the earth. “So, about the church...” 

The myrmidon huffed and puffed, while he used his sword to help prop him up. Once he reached his feet, he couldn’t stop cringing as he spoke. “The church is lending its soldiers, but the throne is a divine birthright, so anyone else ruling that doesn’t have the Crest of Blaiddyd is basically null and void, at this point. As far as they’re concerned, this is a hands-off issue. It goes against their blasted doctrine.” 

Felix stumbled and Claude relaxed his arms. “You uh... you want to stop now, or—” And before his adversary could finish, he lunged with his sword in hand. Claude prepared another shot, but Felix briefly let the full power of his Crest activate, creating a burst of energy that ever-so-slightly messed up Claude’s aim, and Felix spun his body around, laying a devastating roundhouse kick against the bottom of the Leicester noble’s jaw. 

Claude flew backwards, skidding off the ground, before flipping to his feet, only to immediately start wobbling and dropping his bow. He wiped the trickle of blood pouring from his mouth with his thumb and lowly chuckled. “Hmph, lucky shooooo—” The man continued to stagger, as the shock from Felix’s boot still left him in a daze. “Ugh, I’ll give you credit, you sure know how to land a hit.” 

Now was Felix’s turn to condescendingly grin at his foe. “It’s what I do best. Now, my first question: how did you suddenly become the heir to House Riegan? No one just ‘accidentally’ finds out they were a part of a noble bloodline, and especially not one who’s the heir to the sovereign duke, of all things.” 

Claude took a deep breath, clutching his head. “Believe it or not, I really did only figure out a year ago. Where I grew up, Crests don’t have nearly the level of emphasis that, say, kingdom does. My mom ran away from home before I was born, and once my uncle died, my gramps sought her out. I didn’t even know how to activate my crest until recently. I know I’m shiftiness incarnate and thus, not the most trustworthy, but I’m actually telling the truth, here.” 

“That’s—how do you even live in this continent without—” Felix shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Right, one question per hit. Well, no matter, I’ll beat more out of you soon. That is, if you can even take another hit.” 

The man in yellow laughed as he scratched his chin. “Yeah, I don’t think I can endure much more of those Crest kicks of yours, but...” Right as he reached for his bow, Felix flung his sword at it, knocking both out of the way. Once Claude was distracted, the warrior used his crest to amplify the strength in his legs and bounded right on top of him, flipping through the sky to smash his foot against Claude’s cranium. 

Claude smoothly drifted his head away from Felix, and the ground cracked from the pressure of his crest-infused kick. In one swift movement, the smaller noble swerved his body around in to a spinning aerial sweep, only for Claude duck under with less than zero effort, as coolly and calmly as could be. 

Felix flipped his body over to use his hand as a balancer and continued to spin his legs around, forcing Claude to stay low to the ground. Raising his foot into the air, he attempted another axe kick, and the gilded man seized the opportunity to flip away, putting his hand into his sash. 

Felix quickly readjusted himself and landed on his feet before releasing his shield Crest, ready to deliver a powerful hook. However, he was quickly met with a hidden dagger to the hip, before Claude yanked it downwards, shredding apart the entire left side of his body as he surrounded himself with an updraft of a gilded wind. 

Felix gripped his bloody side and shouted, “ **FUCKING** —” 

Claude shone with a golden glint of light as the bleeding from his mouth ceased, and he smiled yet again. “It was a good try, Felix, but you probably should’ve known I’d have something up my sleeve—er, sash, that is.” He spun the curved knife in his hand, before pointing it to Felix, as the latter tumbled backwards. “Okay, next question: so, this Lonato I’ve been hearing about evidently rebelled over his oldest son getting killed by the church. Is executing your soldiers just a thing in the kingdom, or...?” 

“How don't you al—” The writhing sting of the dagger cut him off. “Apparently Ashe’s brother conspired for the Tragedy to happen, or something of that sort. I don’t know enough about it myself, apparently one of my... friends believes that the thing was a hoax anyway, so what do I know? All I can gather is that Lonato’s oldest kid did something to anger the church, he got killed for it, and Lord Lonato crusaded for his honor. That satisfy you?” 

Claude squinted and bit his lip. “So, the church can just execute you if they say you’ve done something wrong, eh? Sounds a bit fishy to me, but what do I know?” 

“For someone who’s about to rule one of Fodlan’s three nations, you really don’t know anything about how this place works, do you?” 

Claude merely shrugged. “Hey, I lived a life sheltered from thi—oh no, I’m not answering anything else unless you wail on me, again.” He winked and mugged once more. “ _If_ you ever wail on me again, that is.” 

Felix panted through his gritted teeth. “I’m at least getting one more on you, dastard.” He jumped backwards and Claude just stood where he was, carefully judging the Faerghus noble’s movements. Even without a bow, Claude had the advantage in range with that dagger of his. One wrong move, and Felix was basically done for. 

Another spark of anguish flared up by Felix’s side, and he got an idea. He purposefully faltered, bending his legs and just slightly hunching over. Claude saw this and dashed forward at incredible speeds, with a self-assured smile on his face. Right as he swung, Felix swerved and bashed his elbow into the enigmatic man’s gut, knocking some saliva out of his mouth. In spite of that, Claude stabbed his wounded hip and threw him to the ground, wincing. “I *huff* win.” 

Felix lightly cackled before another surge of pain swept through him. “Like I said, at least one more.” 

Claude grinned at him, with the slightest amount of drool slipping from his lips. “I like the gambit you pulled off there. Using your pain to your advantage was pretty smart. It’s just too bad I brace for almost everything.” 

Through the writhing pain, Felix asked, “So, question two: what kind of place do you have to grow up in, to _not_ understand anything about here?” 

The archer took the blade out of Felix’s gut and smiled as he reached out his hand. “Only if you answer this question: after you get patched up, wanna go for a bite in the dining hall? I’m starving, over here.” 

Felix looked at him in disbelief before letting out a surprised chuckle. “You beat someone within an inch of his life in a fight and then you ask if they want some food after that?” He gripped Claude’s hand and grinned at him. “I like the way you think.” 

Once Felix had been lifted up, it became a struggle to even move his bloodstained body. “Where did you learn to aim like that? It hurts just to move, right now.” 

“Well, to give you an idea of how I used to live, let’s just say that you learn early on you can’t afford to miss a single shot.” While the smile on Claude’s face remained, his eyes carried a deep melancholy in them. “One wrong move, and you’re dead, and I’m not exactly the picture of strength. So, I had to teach myself where someone’s the most vulnerable and learned to exploit that.” 

“Hmph, I see you also grew up somewhere where strength is all but required, then.” 

Claude shrugged his shoulders, before putting his arms behind his head, like usual. “Kind of, yeah. In fact, I don’t exactly ascribe to chivalry either, so you could say we’re actually a bit alike.” 

“Heh, well, I’ll tell you one thing, you at least put up a better fight than most of the nobles, here.” 

Claude audaciously bowed, his mannerisms immeasurably sardonic and stuffed to the brim with fake dignification. “Oh, Felix, how you honor a simple wretch like me with your oh-so-generous praise, for my talents were merely adequate in the face of such a deft duelist’s strength.” 

The noble rolled his eyes and sighed. “Knock it off, will you? I already get irritated by enough nobles here, I don’t need someone I actually sort of respect trying to actively anger me.” 

Claude winced and oohed as he once again mugged with all of the sarcasm in the world in his demeanor. “I think we’re going to run into a few issues, there. I’ve seen you have a talk with Lysithea every once in a while, and I take it she’s told you how much I love to rile her up, even though she could easily wipe me off the face of the earth in one shot. And I managed to scrape by a victory against you, so I won’t be able to help myself, unfortunately.” He flashed an amicable wink. “At least I know you have the sharp tongue to match me, though.” 

Felix scoffed, but not without a hint of laughter sneaking in. “At least you recognize that. Now, let’s just get me to the damn infirmary so I can eat already, will you? I hate to admit it, but I physically can’t do it on my own.” 

Claude chortled as he put his arm around the bleeding man’s body. “Sure, whatever gets me fed faster.” 

* * *

“Caspar, don’t you dare!” Ashe screamed out, running at full speed. 

“Sorry, Ashe, but you ain’t stopping me from finishing that guy!” Caspar shouted, sliding down the stair railings. 

It was yet another hectic day in Garreg Mach, with Caspar at the helm, as per usual, as the two spent their afternoon sprinting all over the place, trying to apprehend their now infamous pantry thief, both for completely different reasons. 

Ashe, as with the book thief from before, would like to take him aside and understand why he did it. Surely, there must be practical reason why someone would be forced to that point, right? If you asked Caspar, though, you’d get an entirely different answer. When asked about how he wants to deal with somebody taking food from a pantry, he elected to try to _kill him_! For just wanting to get some food, too! Goddess knows how that reckless noble would’ve reacted to Ashe if he found him stealing for his siblings’ stake. Ashe would probably be sitting six feet under, right now, if that were the case. 

And before he could finally take the lead and prevent Caspar from doing something they’d both regret, Caspar bashed him into the pier with his shoulder. “He’s mine, Ashe, get the hell out of my way!” 

Ashe jumped out of the water drenched and covered in mud, nearly about to scream bloody murder at Caspar, and immediately ran at him as his veins began to light on fire. The brawler managed to just reach the outside of the market place before Ashe jumped over him, using his skull as a footstool and knocking him to the ground. “Enjoy your nap, Caspar!” 

Caspar forced himself off the ground with a face caked in dirt and a tiny amount of blood, while Ashe bolted his way to the marketplace, but by the time he got there, the thief was gone, having vanished without a singled trace. 

The commoner jumped off the stone railing of the steps, just barely spiraling over Raphael’s head, as Caspar slid between the muscular behemoth’s legs and subsequently slipped down the steps, tripping up Ashe in the process. As the two were rising, the thief had vanished from sight, rendering their travesty of a chase completely pointless. 

The cyan-haired boy ran up behind Ashe, only to find him moving his head all over the place in a vain attempt to find the thief. “Wha—you _lost_ him?” 

Ashe, now more than a little irritable and desperately trying not to lash out, slowly turned to Caspar with gritted teeth. “I’m the faster one of us, if you hadn’t gotten in my way, I could’ve gotten to him!” 

“And then what? Tell him off? Give him a pat on the back and say, ‘now don’t you do this again, kind sir.’” Caspar assumed a mocking tone, wagging his finger at the archer, to his everlasting chagrin. “You wouldn’t have done anything! Maybe if you let _me_ punch his face in, we wouldn’t have to worry about him doing this, ever again!” 

“Oh, suuuure.” Ashe rolled his eyes, placing a hand to his head. “You’re right, maybe beating the tar out of someone is going to make them change their ways, it’s not like they may have needed it to survive, or anything! No, they’re just stone-cold killers for... oh! Taking some food! Of course, the most heinous crime imaginable!” 

Ashe didn’t like stooping to this level, mocking his friend and getting increasingly aggravated, but Caspar... _Caspar_ makes it so, so difficult, sometimes. 

He was an anomaly among Ashe’s friends. Whereas most of the time, Ashe really gets along with, say, the Blue Lions, Petra, and Byleth, and he rarely has to worry about upsetting them or being upset by them. _Caspar_ , however? For as much fun as those two may have together, many times he also makes Ashe want to punch things. He makes him want to punch things really, really hard 

“Another lovers’ quarrel, I take it?” Linhardt yawned out from above, somehow resting on the very top of a nearby tree. 

Caspar squinted his eyes at his childhood friend. “We’re arguing about whether or not we beat the living crap out of a guy who just stole food. And if _somebody_ hadn’t gotten in the way, I could’ve done just that and not let that creep book it on out of here.” 

Ashe's eye twitched, as he struggled to keep his temper in check. “What he _means_ to say is that I—the faster one—would’ve talked him down and we probably could’ve reached an understanding, if _Caspar_ didn’t see fit to body check me into the pond!” 

The two irritable friends scowled at each other, their rage simmering just below the surface, both of them just waiting to lash out, at one another. 

“Caspar, why is your first answer for everything to punch it in the mouth?” The narcoleptic whined. “Surely, you must get tired of constantly getting beaten up, from all the fights you keep picking.” 

“Hey! I’ve got a few wins under my belt, first off!” Caspar shouted, balling his fists. 

“Imaginary fights in your head don’t count, Caspar.” Linhardt gave a sardonic smile, pursing his lips like a smug cat. “Besides, it’s stupid to add to the bloodshed, when you’re already going to be fighting in the Mausoleum, later on.” 

Ashe’s exasperation quelled, if only slightly. “Wait, I’m sorry, repeat that?” 

Caspar nervously rubbed the back of his head. “Right, you probably didn’t hear about this... so, it turns out that there was some kind of assassination letter on Lord Lonato’s body... one about assassinating Lady Rhea on the Rite of Rebirth.” 

“I—” Ashe took a step back, barely able to take that in. “...wait, why would Lonato have that letter on his body, if he was trying to—” His teeth chattered, and his blood began to boil. “Someone put that on him, knowing he’d die and that someone else would see it, didn’t they?” 

“That’s what Professor Byleth and Edelgard thought.” Linhardt calmly replied, resting his cheek on his palm. “They think that somebody in the Western Church is using it as a distraction to keep everyone focused on Rhea, and not the rite. Maybe to steal one of its treasures, I suppose?” 

The commoner’s body violently shook, and he gritted his teeth as his wrath enveloped him. “What right do they have to use my father for their schemes!? He was a good man, and they sent him off to die for their own conspiracy!” 

He turned to Caspar and uttered with a low growl, “Do the Black Eagles need anyone else on standby? Because if so, I’m in.” 

“Are you sur—” 

“Surer than I’ve been in my entire life.” He glared at Caspar with infernal eyes, he could feel the veins in his skin pop out, still barely keeping whatever sliver of self-control he had, at the moment. “I have to go ask Professor Hanneman about this, I’ll see you both later. Thanks.” 

Without a second thought, Ashe stormed off, with his heart beating at a mile a second. He could just feel his anger growing with each passing moment. 

_How dare they? To use_ _Lonato_ _as some kind of tool for their own ends, what could those bastards possibly do that’s worth trading the lives of him and the people of Gaspard!?_

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to scream, to curse into the sky with every bit of vehement wrath he could muster. Holding himself back from making a fool out of himself by bellowing at the top of his lungs was so, so very hard. 

He found himself constantly weaving back and forth in between students as he made his mad dash to the central building, and if it were any other day, he’d have been thoroughly exhausted by the time he made it to the ground floor, but his boiling anger was enough to fuel him all the way to Hanneman’s office. Once he reached the door, Ashe inhaled as much air as he could to calm himself down, not wanting to blow up in front of his teacher. 

He slowly creaked open the door, pacing his breaths, and found Hanneman beard deep in his research, with the most childlike glee on his face, as he analyzed table upon note upon slide of work all over the place, yet somehow the room remained in immaculate shape, save for one set of papers bizarrely having what look like coffee stains on them. 

The kindly old man turned behind him and continued to look as pleasant as can be. “Why Ashe, it’s good to see you! Are you doing well?” 

The boy cleared his throat, and tightened up his stance. “I’m doing alright, thank you. Um... Professor Hanneman, what do you know about a letter found about Lonato?” 

The amicable twinkle in Hanneman’s eyes gave was to a far more crestfallen demeanor, and his voice became quite sullen. “I actually just got the news a little while ago. I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you, specifically about it, in your next tutoring session.” 

Ashe's turned to an even greater pallor. “Oh, uh—sorry, Professor, I didn’t know; I’m sorry for just barging in your room, like this.” He pointed to the door behind him, nervously. “You know what? I’ll just wait until tomorrow. Please forgive me, Prof. Hanneman, I’ll just be on my way.” 

Hanneman quickly waved his hand in dismissal. “No, no! You’re quite fine, Ashe.” He pulled out the chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

The now timid boy scampered to the chair with his eyes melded to the wooden floor. 

The aged scholar cupped his hands on desk. “For this month's mission, the Blue Lions will be watching the outer perimeter of the cathedral; analyzing the area for any possible intruders, while of course, the Black Eagles will be inside the Mausoleum itself, and the Golden Deer remain by the entrance to the monastery, itself.” 

“So, we’ll be on guard duty, essentially?” 

“That depends on what you mean by, ‘we.’” Hanneman arose from his desk, smiling gingerly down to his student. “If by ‘we’ you mean the Blue Lions as a house, then yes. But if you mean _every_ member of the class, then not exactly.” 

Ashe’s eyes bulged. “Wait, by ‘every,’ you mean...” 

Hanneman took off his monocle and looked at the boy with gentle, kind eyes. “I’ve family members of my own that have succumbed to horrible tragedy. I understand more than anyone how you must be feeling and more importantly, how much you’d desire to rectify this, even once they’re gone. So, I elected to ask ahead for you to work with the Black Eagles, since I’d figured you’d already ask me, anyway.” 

Ashe couldn’t help himself from giving the largest smile he could physically make. “Professor Hanneman, thank you, thank you so much!” He quickly sprung out of his chair and bowed to him. “You’ve been so understanding about this, I’m really grateful for everything!” 

Hanneman laughed and tenderly placed his hand on Ashe’s shoulder. “There’s no need to be so humble about this, young man. All I ask is that you don’t get in over your head, this time. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt, again.” 

The student, predictably, stiffened his body even more. “R-right! I promise that I won’t repeat my terrible behavior at Magdred, ever again.” 

The old instructor gave a chuckling sigh. “That's not what I mean, Ashe. I’m don’t know anyone that would be too happy with killing their own father...” He turned his eyes away and briefly muttered, “Well, anyone not named Felix, at least...” Hanneman shook his head. “—but I moreso mean that I don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way to get revenge. I know of your dreams to become a knight, and I can gather you must be very angry about what the Western Church could be doing, but please, I beg you, don’t get yourself killed trying to avenge them, understood?” 

“O-of course, Professor Hanneman.” Ashe couldn’t help but feel confused about that. “...why would I want to do that, though?” 

“Oh, I thought you’d...” He immediately waved his hand, nervously. “Er, never mind that, I just wasn’t sure if this was out of a desire for payback, that’s all.” 

The child frantically shook his head. “No, I assure you that isn’t it. I just want answers and to prevent that from happening again. If I can do it without hurting anyone, I will.” 

Hanneman looked to Ashe with pride in his eyes. “I... I’m sorry for assuming that, young man, I gues—you know what? Let’s just forget about that, for the time being.” He rubbed his finely-combed beard, biting his lip. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting tutored by Annette?” 

Ashe’s eyes bulged and he smacked his forehead. “Right, because of last week’s test.” He speedily fled the room, waving back to Hanneman. “Sorry for taking up your time Professor! Thanks, again!” 

His teacher loudly chuckled in the distance. “No apologies are necessary, son. Best of luck in the coming weeks!” 

And with that, the tumultuous anger in Ashe’s heart began to cool to far more stable levels. Now all that remains is to steel himself for the upcoming fight. 

_One failure cost me nearly everything. I cannot—will not let me blunder like that, ever again._

Even though his wrath had calmed considerably, the drive in his veins wouldn’t cease, and for the next few weeks, he was determined to put himself through hell if it means preventing another disaster like Magdred. But first, his mortal enemy: geometry and tactical planning, something he dreads almost as much as he did, fighting his father. 

* * *

“—and don’t even get me started on Lorenz so incessantly treating me like a child.” Lysithea said, as she continued to stuff her cheeks with chocolate. 

“Ugh, I know the feeling.” Felix groaned, wiping some sugar off his face. “I’m barely younger than my friends back home, but if you talked to Sylvain, you’d think otherwise. He always goes on about how I’m his ‘baby brother’.” 

If you’d asked Felix a month ago that he’d be sitting around and chatting over sweets and actually enjoying what he was eating, he’d call you a damned fool. An entire life of hating cakes and brownies and the like had basically evaporated in the span of a week, thanks to Lysithea’s efforts... once she’d realized he’d given her gift to that commoner. It helps that she understands that you don’t need to try to make someone a diabetic in order to make a snack, and because it isn’t as disgustingly sweet, Felix had actually been able to enjoy something that wasn’t meat-based, for a change. 

And surprisingly, that wasn’t even the best part, for him! Of all the people in the monastery to understand how he feels, it was somehow the young, confection-loving mage of the Golden Deer. 

“And it’s always accompanied by ‘you’re so strong for your age, your Crest must be so powerful.’ I can’t tell you how angry it makes me when someone attributes my abilities to my crest, I got here through hard work alone, thank you very much.” Lysithea then took a sip of her tea, her hands shaking. 

“Goddess, _thank you_!” Felix shouted, now earnestly smiling from ear to ear. “So many times, do I have to hear some noble tell me how amazing my Crest is and how it makes me so strong. No, you dolt, I got here because I trained like my life depended on it.” 

“Right?” Lysithea’s voice grew higher in pitch, getting noticeably excited. “I thought I was the only one who felt like that. Finally, someone I can actually talk about this with!” 

“Seriously, I can’t believe that _somebody_ here actually gets it!” Felix took another swig of his tea, more invigorated than he’s ever been since he got to that blasted monastery. “I must say, compared to everyone else here, you’ve earned a lot more of my respect, Lysithea.” 

Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and her eyes darted to the table. “I... thanks... you too, Felix. It’s nice finally being able to talk to somebody who gets how I feel.” 

“Don’t mention it. I never thought I’d say this, but I look forward to these chats.” He smiled, reaching for a nearby brownie. “I don’t have to deal with anyone going on about how ‘great’ the knights are, how deaths are glorious, or Sylvain roping me into his schemes to get someone into bed with him.” 

“You have one of those too, huh?” Lysithea groaned, rubbing her temples. “Lorenz is just as bad with that, but the difference is that it never actually works out for him. Did you know Professor Byleth had to personally come to our class to tell him to leave her students alone?” 

Felix gripped the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, my expectations for the nobles here are already depressingly low, and they still find a way to disappoint me.” 

“Tell me about it.” Lysithea rested her puffed-up cheek against her palm, sighing to herself. “So...” She began to fumble with her hands. “When would you like to do this again—if you want to, that is?” 

“Hm... I think I’m free around... noontime on Sunday should work.” 

The young dark mage lit up like fireworks. “Yes! That’s perfect! That’s one of the few times I’m available.” 

“Alright then, I'm eagerly awaiting our next chat.” Felix bluntly announced, lightly grinning. 

Lysithea’s face burned red-hot and a nervous smile broke out on her face. “I—yes! M-me too!” 

Felix squinted in confusion. “Are you alright? You seem a little... flustered.” 

She shook her head wildly as the crimson glow on her cheeks deepened in shade. “Nope! Flustered? Couldn’t be me!" She tittered unconvincingly, and her eyes grew to the size of a mountain, “Ihavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout,I’mfine,perfectly,onehundredpercentfine!” 

Before newfound cake lover could press on, another voice sounded off in the distance,“Lysie, hey! How’s i—bah! Felix!” 

He turned to find Annette, bearing a look of sheer, unmitigated terror, frozen in place and chattering her teeth. You overhear her sing _one_ cute song in the greenhouse, and suddenly you’re public enemy number one. And Felix was putting in the effort to be... approachable, too! But now, he can barely get in a word edgewise without her running off, or insulting him or both. Between those two girls, Ashe, and Bernadetta, it seems like everyone here gets terrified over the most innocuous things within these halls. 

“Wh-what are you doing here? What did you—” 

“Relax, you weren’t even mentioned, Annette.” Felix couldn’t help but groan in exhaustion, leaning back in his chair with his boots planted on the side of the table. “You don’t need to keep freaking out about... well, you know.” 

“Annette! Perfect timing!” Lysithea yelled, taking some of her sweets with her as she left her seat. “I actually wanted to talk to you about this book on magical amplification. It includes things like increasing your range and making your magic nigh-unsealable.” 

“Ooh! I like the sound of that already!” The ginger mage beamed with an exuberant energy. “I could really get use out of this, thanks Lysie!” 

Felix merely hummed to himself, and a light grin formed on his face. 

“Something you find funny, Felix?” Annette stammered, her skin turning pale. 

Felix placed his fingers to his forehead. “You both keep acting like I’m going to eat you alive, I don’t get it, I really don’t. I was just thinking that it’s nice to see nobles actually eager to work, that’s all.” He slumped in his chair, grumbling to himself inaudibly as he reached for the pot of his cherished Four-Spice blend. 

“W-well, thanks, Felix” Annette cleared her throat, looking only marginally more comfortable, and Lysithea grabbed her by the arm. 

“Anyway, I got to help Annette with some studying, thanks for the tea, see you!” The younger girl dragged her friend off at extreme speeds, nearly taking her arm off in the process. A dust cloud might as well have burst from her feet. 

“Woah, Lysie, what a min—” Annette cried out, before the distance between her and Felix was too far for him to hear. 

And before he knew it, the man was to himself, downing the last of his drink and muttering, “this place just gets weirder and weirder, by the day.” 

* * *

In the dark of night in the Knights’ Hall, Ashe found himself launched into a nearby wall by the force of one of Dimitri’s swings, nearly pulverizing his spine into dust, in the process. 

“Ashe! Oh goddess, I’m so sorry,” The prince cried out, rushing over to the surprisingly un-exploded boy. “Did I break anything? Do we need to call Professor Manuela over... again? Can you stand?” 

Ashe immediately waved his hands in front of him. “No, no, no, no, no, it’s not a problem at all, your princeship! I was the one to ask for your services, after all!” 

Dimitri let out a sigh of relief as he almost heaved Ashe back to his feet. “Thank the heavens, I thought I broke you again! It seems even now, I’m having trouble controlling my strength. At this point, I’m afraid I’ll take the whole building down with us.” 

Ashe could only nervously laugh as a cold sweat dripped down his face, unable to tell if Dimitri was joking, at that point. Sylvain had already casually thrown out that the he’d accidentally made a crater the size of a bedroom during their trip to Rhodos, and even though it was just shy of two months since then, the royal now seemed to be able to easily double that, with little effort. 

In his rising anxiety, he jumped straight to his feet, trying everything in his power to ignore the spine-splitting agony that he was in. “It’s quite alright! I’m not... splattered all over the walls at the moment, so you’re quite al—you’re just fine, Your—Dim...itri!” 

Dimitri gave a laughing sigh. “At this rate, I don’t think I’m ever going to have a normal dialogue with you, am I?” 

Ashe’s cheeks flushed and he held his head down in embarrassment. “S-sorry, I’m trying Your High— **DIMITRI** —I really am.” 

The prince let out an even louder laugh and Ashe, as per usual, twiddled with his thumbs as he became increasingly more flustered, staring at the ground, unable to meet the eyes of his esteemed leader. 

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is a man who through strength and candor alone commanded a presence worthy of admiration and respect. Able to strike up a conversation so easily and effortlessly (provided you weren’t named Felix) and could just as easily handle himself should the need arise, a standard that seemed impossible to live up to or to try to equal. 

Ashe had no business trying to talk to him like an equal, and yet the prince was so eager to reach out to him, to converse like they’d known each other for their entire lives. Having someone so far above him in strength, respectability, and social skills made talking to him like he would anyone else a challenge, in and of itself. 

“Well, at any rate, we should probably wrap this up, right?” He calmly tried to place his lance on the weapons’ rack, only to realize that he bent his spear too far for it to fit, with several slabs of metal having noticeable chunks torn out of it. Dimitri groaned, looking up to the ceiling as he shook his head in frustration. “And that makes the fourth one this week... wonderful. Can’t wait to have to explain to Professor Hanneman why we need yet another order of lances, this month.” 

He bitterly chuckled, turning to Ashe as he rubbed his arm. “Look at me, I’m still just as terrible with controlling myself as Felix says. Maybe it’s for the best that Lady Rhea decided that sent in the Black Eagles over me, I don’t have to risk mincing everyone in the vicinity.” 

“Come on, you aren’t that bad!” Ashe shouted. “It’s not like you’ve done anything to seriously harm anyone—er, minus that one time with my back—but still! I know you don’t mean any harm by it.” 

“I...” Dimitri looked somberly down to the earth, clenching his teeth incredibly tight. “Let’s just say you’re not entirely right on that front. I take it you’ve heard from Felix about why he can’t stomach me for more than a moment?” 

Ashe’s eyes darted away from the prince, unable to give him a straight answer. 

Dimitri sharply exhaled and leaned his back on the wall beside them, staring up into the air once again. “Well, he wasn’t wrong about it. There are times when on the battlefield, when facing against particularly violent foes, that I start to lose myself in the chaos. What went down in Galatea territory was an especially bad uprising. The people of that land are already especially fed up and tired, so I suppose a revolt was only a matter of time, and when it happened...” He gulped for air and bit onto his lip, his voice now becoming shakier. “It wasn’t even the only time I’ve done that, either.” 

Ashe cleared his throat, his worry rising and his legs shaking. He’d hoped that Felix was just being his generally harsh self, even when his fright was plain to see, but to hear it come out of someone he respects so dearly struck him like if Dimitri had done it with his own bare hands. 

Dimitri’s sorrow was soon placed by a mixture of wrath and vexation as he smashed his fist against the stone wall. “I hate that I keep doing this, that people who don’t deserve to be harmed get caught up in the storm that is my own anger. There’s only a select group of people I wish to unleash myself upon, to rend with such uncontrolled malice, and the best information I have on those bastards is that they—” 

He frantically shook his head, lowly growling to himself, scaring Ashe even further. Once the royal looked up to see the boy’s terror, his face changed back to one of immense regret. “I’m sorry, I know seeing this must not be pleasant, I just...” He moved to place his hand on his classmate’s shoulder, firmly, but still far more controlled and gentler than his previous movements. He looked into his eyes with a mixture of ferocity and grimness. “I know you too must be feeling a similar rage inside of you, to those who’ve hurt you. You’ve lost your family due to a conspiracy, as have I.” 

Dimitri softly smiled, belying the macabre words to follow, “I can’t exactly blame you if you were to give into that either.” 

The serenity that inhabited his face as he uttered that statement made Ashe nearly jump, but the horror of upsetting the prince scared him just as much, and he gave a nervous smile in response. “Um... right, D-Dimitri.” 

Dimitri gave a puzzled expression. “Is something wrong, Ashe?” 

_Be respectful, Ashe, this is the prince you’re talking to._

“What? N-no, everything is fine! I’m just...” He let out the fakest yawn ever to be released, in the history of all mankind. “Really tired... I think I need to get to bed.” 

Dimitri grinned at him once more and patted him on the back, waving him off as he left. “I understand, you look like you’d need it after today. Well, in any case, I hope you have a good rest, Ashe.” 

“Y-you too, Your Highness.” Once Ashe and Dimitri had parted ways, Ashe’s breaths became panicked and short, his eyes diluted, and his quickly sped up his pace as the fear in his mind finally started to be let loose. 

_T o give into my... no, I can’t just hurt someone like that, even when I’m angry, and yet... Even His Highness seems to hate killing, but why does he want me to—I shouldn’t _ **_want_** _to hurt someone, right?_

And once he made it back to his dorm and fell onto his bed, all he could think about is those very words that his future king had told him. 

_I s this... what’s expected of me? The prince is our shining ruler, a symbol for all knights, someone to look to for advice and to see what’s right or wrong. So, what does it say about those of us working under him? Will they—am I capable of doing what Felix kept warning me about? That’s not something I’d ever do, right? I wouldn’t let anyone get hurt in the name of judgment, would I? _

The image of the people he killed before flashed in his mind, the priestess that he so cruelly cut down, the commoner he’d slain with his own bow, his own adoptive father cut in half before his very eyes, as Ashe only made things worse. All people he’d either murdered himself or was complicit in, without him even desiring to hurt them. Suddenly, the certainty of that answer faded away into nothingness, as he began to drift off into sleep. 

_Could that really be what I’ll become?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I have no idea why [Heroes paints Claude and](https://guide.fire-emblem-heroes.com/en-US/12004001000401/) [Dimitri’s relationship as an arch-rivalry](https://guide.fire-emblem-heroes.com/en-US/12003001000400/) when they have maybe 6 interactions in the whole game, but I’m not gonna let that stop me from having a ball with it. If there’s one thing I adore writing, it’s mocking, sarcastic back-and-forth. Plus, it lets me utilize how Dimitri was actually pretty flippant/blunt in some of his JP White Clouds encounters ([and he speaks extremely masculinely as well](https://www.reddit.com/r/fireemblem/comments/es0804/role_language_the_blue_lions_students_speech/), which I elected to translate as far more aggressive language), and I get to have more Claude shenanigans, so that rules. 
> 
> \- I find it absolutely hysterical that Caspar is the only person in 3H to actively piss Ashe off on a consistent basis. Even with Sylvain, Ashe is patient (to a point) and tries to be courteous. But when he’s in a support with the living embodiment of Red Bull, those two argue like an old married couple, it’s great. Writing exasperated Ashe in a comedic light is a treat, let me tell you. 
> 
> \- God, I love writing Felix and Lysithea together, especially when I get to make Felix romance blind while Lysithea just completely melts like a cute little mess. Those two are so similar on the surface that it makes conversations between them a breeze to jot down. 
> 
> \- I also decided to take this past Felix/Lysithea’s A-support, which shows her very clear crush on him, solely because their support chain's contained nature makes it seem as though it takes place in a week, so I think drawing it out wouldn’t really do anything but create needless padding. If I felt I was skilled enough to make it go through the entire first half without a hitch, I would. But I’m not, as a.) this is quite literally the first time I’ve tried writing an actual story and b.) I’ve already had to edit a plethora of sloppy mistakes or writing mishaps, in post—I know I have my limits. At least I can indulge in experimenting with these two and the saccharine overdose to follow, I guess.
> 
> \- I’ve mentioned this in the first chapter, balancing out Dimitri as both an eventual, extremely threatening antagonist and also trying to make him very sympathetic is a task, in and of itself. That said, it’s also a very welcome one and to be clear, I actually like Dimitri, even if philosophically we agree on precious few things. The last thing I want is to paint him as some complete monster (even though he’s going to involved in some *shit* later), because there’s already more than enough infighting in the fandom and I’d rather not contribute to it (well, more than I may already accidentally have in other circles, anyway).


	14. On Death's Door

The evening in Garreg Mach Monastery was warm and humid, as the sun’s light began to fade away, far off from the horizon. The halls were quiet as most had gone to get some rest, for the Rite of Rebirth was tomorrow, and stressful in a way none other had been before. 

As for Ashe, however, he and Ingrid were sitting down silently in the dining hall, both exhausted after yet another day of sky patrolling. As Ingrid began to take another bite, a man’s voice called out behind her, “So, is this your fourth or fifth helping?” 

Ashe looked up and Ingrid turned around to find Felix, as drenched from weeding as usual, though now bearing a vaguely sardonic grin. He plopped down in his chair as his old friend quietly groaned, “It’s my _second_ , Felix.” 

“You would say that it’s already your second, like it’s a defense,” he chided, looking down at his sauté and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

“For somebody who loves to complain about how tired he gets, you’re awfully full of energy, today.” Ingrid teasingly smiled as she took a chunk out of her herring. 

“Yeah, because I’m finally done and can eat something. I think I’m more justified in being hungry, when I’ve spent all day doing work and not playing with a horse for a couple of hours.” He turned to Ashe, who was minding his own business as he ate. “Or I guess in his case, getting rag dolled by a wyvern.” 

“Actually, I’ve only ended up with a sprained foot and some light scars, this month!” Ashe cheerily pointed to the bandages on his left arm. “If things keep going at this rate, I might finally have Beithir listening to me in around a month or two! Honestly, the second I started treating him as Caspar, but in dragon form, it all sort of clicked, for me.” 

Ingrid covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Felix lightly smirked. “Caspar but in... all right. Does he try to break down your doors, too?” 

“No, he just has a tendency to breath fire and throw me around, every so often,” the boy replied, without so much as a hint of irony in his tone or expression. 

Felix rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “Hmph. Well, at least you’ve got your drive back. I’d started to think you’d never bounce back, after a bit.” 

“I...” Ashe’s eyes darted down to the table. “I can’t say I don’t think of it, from time to time, especially considering the mission I’m about to be sent on, but I’m not getting anywhere by just curling up in my room, like that.” 

Ingrid’s face grew slightly forlorn, while the myrmidon merely nodded in approval. “I see you’ve gotten your head screwed on tight. Speaking of that mission, though, consider yourself lucky. I’ve got lookout duty with Sylvain and the boar prince, so you can probably tell how my night is gonna go.” 

“I’m not sure why Hanneman thought putting those two with you was a good idea...” Ingrid massaged the front of her head. “It’s like he _wants_ a fight to break out, at that point. Seriously, either Mercedes or I would be a better choice, for that.” 

“Apparently, it’s something about how the boar and I are both the only people who can wrangle in, who also won’t have to deal with his relentless flirting.” He quickly pointed at her. “He also said that you need a break from Sylvain, since you’re stuck next to him, every single class.” 

Ingrid gave a slightly amused chuckle. “Well, at least I know he was thinking about me. Though considering... you know what? Never mind that.” She turned her attention to Ashe, who looked even more tense than usual. “Are you feeling alright, Ashe? You seem a bit out of it.” 

And just like that, Ashe immediately jumped. “Wha—oh, sorry, Ingrid. I was just thinking about something Hi—Dimitri was telling me, a few days back.” 

“What could that beast have said to you that would make you flip like that?" Felix squinted his eyes at Ashe. 

The archer tried to literally wave off Felix’s concern. “It’s just something about tomorrow’s mission. It’s not important, really.” 

Felix bit his lip, unconvinced, and then a maddening though entered his head. “What? Did he let his boarish mask slip, or something?” 

“W-well...” Ashe’s eyes went right back to the table, and his cheeks reddened. 

A tidal wave of rage began to swell in the young noble, and a vein popped out of his forehead. “ **What did he say**?” 

“He...” Ashe couldn't even look him in the eye. He just knew that if he said anything more about what Dimitri had said to him, that Felix would utterly rip into the prince with zero mercy. 

Felix breathed in deep, closing his eyes for a brief moment, “Your reluctance is telling.” He grabbed the food from his plate and stomped out of the hall. 

Ingrid jumped out of her seat, ready to run after him. “Felix! Wait, don’t do anything to His—” 

“I’m not going to kill him.” Felix growled; his blood heated to a fuming boil. “I’m just going to practice my sword skills on a training dummy. That happens to look like the boar. Until I rip it to shreds.” He soon disappeared from the premises, angrily gorging on his dish, as he left. 

Ashe groaned, placing his hand on his forehead. “And now Felix is probably going to lay into Dimitri because of me.” 

Ingrid sighed as she collapsed back into her seat. “It’s not your fault, it’s just Felix being Felix.” She looked at him with concern in her eyes. “So... are you going to be okay, tomorrow?” 

“I’m hoping so. I don’t want anything like what happened last time to occur again, but I don’t even know what I’m in for.” He met her worry with an apprehensive look of his own. “Speaking of tomorrow, I know your history with Dedue is rather fraught, but...” 

Ingrid took a deep breath in, composing herself. “You mean how I kept on screaming at him in training for months on end, or that I tense up whenever he’s around, even when you’ve tried to ease us in?” She uncomfortably rubbed her shoulder, bearing a large amount of guilt, on her face. “I’m trying to work on that. He... I know Dedue isn’t what I thought he or really anybody from Duscur was like. And ever since that one lesson where Sylvain pointed out the weird discrepancies in Duscur, I’ve been thinking more and more of the legitimacy of their involvement. It’s just...” 

Her body began to lock up, her teeth began to grit, and she clutched her arm. “I know you’re stronger about moving on from something dire, like that. I don’t know how you do it. I’m still thinking about Glenn and the Tragedy, even years after the fact. Even now, I still keep dwelling on it.” 

Ashe began to wildly wave his hands in front of him. “No, no, no! It’s not like that.” he twiddled with his thumbs as a sense of melancholy reared its head. “I can’t say that I’ve ‘moved on,’ really, I still think about Lonato, every day. That wound is still very fresh. But then Professor Byleth helped me realize something.” The sadness in his eyes gave way to a fierce, visceral drive. “I have zero right to not use what I have to stop that from happening again. Even if Lonato ended up turning his blade on me, he’s still what kept me going, for the past few years. I can’t let what he’s done for me and my siblings go to waste.” 

He gingerly chuckled, scratching at his chin. “I guess you could say that it’s my duty not to let him down. And as for Dedue, well you know that he and I are friends, so naturally I want you two to work out whatever’s going on, but...” He began tousle with his own hair, as he tried to come up with what to say. “I don’t quite know how to put it... I’m still trying to get better after Lonato, so there’s no shame in still hurting. I think. Did that make any sense, or did I say something really dumb, just then?” 

The pegasus knight laughed in a loud and undignified fashion. “No, you’re fine, Ashe. I get what you’re trying to say.” She gently beamed at him. “Thanks for understanding me, on this. Usually I...” She forcefully shook her head, dismissing whatever she was about to say. “I’m glad I can at least talk about this stuff, with you.” 

“No problem!” Ashe began to twiddle with his thumbs, awkwardly belting out, “Do you think you and Dedue will be...” 

Ingrid gave him an unsure smile, looking both sincere and anxious, at once. “I hope to do my best, at least. I know my conduct towards him has been unjust, and I don’t want to repeat that. Besides, I'm not exactly being the person I wanted to be, by holding to those prejudices.” 

“I mean, I guess you cou—” He stopped himself, now confounded by a single word. “Wait, you said that you _wanted_ to be. Has something changed recently, Ingrid?” 

Her skin turned stark white, and she fiddled with her braid. “Oh, I meant _want_. It's nothing to worry about, Ashe. Nothing at all!” 

Ingrid’s claims did nothing to assuage the boy’s growing worry. “Are you sure? You seem a bit stressed. If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me about it, right?” 

She frantically nodded her head, overselling her denial. “Yes, of course! Like I said, you have nothing to worry about. It’s just a slip of the tongue, that’s all!” 

Once Ingrid saw Ashe's increasing concern, her eyes became shrouded in deep regret. She pulled herself from her seat, unable to look at him. “I'm sorry, I just need to be alone for a bit. There's just been a lot on my mind, right now, and I've not been my best, as of late."

Ashe sprung up from his chair, leaning over to her, giving her a reassuring look. "Hey, I get it. Just know that I've got your back, alright? If you ever do need to talk about something, I'm here."

She reluctantly smiled at him and slowly nodded. Ingrid then turned and left without saying another word, shaking as she disappeared from view.

He sat at the table alone and his mind racing at what could be plaguing his friend. Ashe could only hope that she was alright, but he couldn’t help feel a deep pit form in his stomach, all the same. Something seemed horribly wrong, with her, and he was morbidly anxious about what it could possibly be. 

* * *

The evening of the next day soon arrived, and Garreg Mach was livelier than it had been, since Ashe and Felix had gotten there. Crowds of people came in droves, enveloping the entire monastery in a swarm of bodies. It’s a wonder that anyone was able to move or breathe in that mess. The brick-and-mortar floors were covered down to the tiniest pebble, with visitors of all shapes and sizes, from all across Fodlan. 

And instead of joining in the festivities, Ashe and the Black Eagles found themselves in the depths of the citadel’s cathedral, equipped with weapons and armor—with Edelgard’s being so huge that it covered up to her nose, leaving only her eyes and the top of her head poking out of the gargantuan metal frame. 

Caspar, as per usual, looked ecstatic and overeager, ready to smash in the faces of anybody who’d dare get within a few yards of him, having to be reeled back in by the ever-exhausted Linhardt. 

Dorothea and Bernadetta’s reluctance remained plain for everyone to see, whereas the remaining students and Byleth were as resolute as they ever were, on the field of battle. 

Ashe, meanwhile kept himself calm through slow, steady breathing, bracing himself for whatever he’ll face in the cavernous depths below, until everyone had finally reached the bottom floor of the burial chamber. 

The amber walls of the Holy Mausoleum stretched on for what felt like miles, with rows and rows of stone pillars as far as the eye could see, holding up the enormous ceiling that loomed high above the students. Beside the titanic columns laid a wealth of coffins and caskets, unnerving the archer greatly. 

Candle lights lit up the otherwise dreary landscape, though the very back of the room held a massive coffin, carressed by a dim, dark green that surrounded the curved walls alongside it. Cracks formed all over the stone floors, indicating the sheer length of time this site had laid within the walls of Garreg Mach. 

The air was musty and uncomfortably warm, having an almost swamp-like feel all throughout. Just moving throughout the place felt sluggish and awkward, if the uneven terrain didn’t already do a good enough job of halting progress. Off in the distance, glowing square tiles rested around the vault’s center, deigned in alternate patters of flashing white and dark blue. They seemed almost mystical in nature, with their spectral lights shining above the otherwise dim earth. 

On the ground in front of the students, a large circle was carved into the ground and on the side of the pillars, and in its epicenter laid a truly harrowing sight: a fearsome knight, clad in jet black and adorned with vicious spikes all over his body, appearing like a living torture device. A tattered red-and-black cape hung down his lower body, whilst a similarly worn-looking, black bandana draped behind his neck. In his hands rested a deathly sharp, pristine scythe, that seemed able to just about cleave anyone in half. 

He sat upon a giant, armored horse, as dark in coloration as an eclipse, with a dull crimson cloth draped around its legs. At the front of its mouth were two devilish, blade-looking protrusions, possibly as an alternate way to gore the harvenger’s enemies. 

His helmet bore two demonic horns that jutted and curved at the top of his skull, whilst his eyes glowed a soul-piercing blood red. The figure’s face was plastered with an unholy grin, filled to the brim with sharpened canines, ready to rip and tear into the flesh of its victims. And somehow, the noises that slipped out of the mask were even more terrifying; low, unnaturally distorted breaths labored out of him that sounded almost otherworldly, like something that didn’t belong in nature. He sounded as though he was repressing his ghoulish laughs and animalistic growls, hardly able to keep in his slaughterous impulses. 

This knight, whatever he was, didn’t look like the heroes in Ashe’s beloved stories, he appeared as a homicidal reaper, ready to drag anyone who dared come into contact down straight to Hell. As terrifying as it was awesome to behold. 

Ashe gulped as he gazed upon this monstrosity of a man that lied before him, radiating a ghastly aura that permeated through the walls. 

Caspar, however, saw fit to rile himself up, slamming his fist into his other palm. “Oh, this guy looks like he’ll—” 

“ _Caspar, don’t you dare_!” Byleth roared, startling the whole group. “Do not, under any circumstances, go past that circle. **Ever**.” 

“She speaks the truth...” The armored titan nodded in a matter-of-fact manner. “I can only keep in my wrath if you weaklings stay away. If any of you get close enough... my thirst for blood will become too great to quench.” 

“Professor, what if we—” 

“No.” Byleth looked more animated and terrified than anyone had ever seen her. Her voice shook and her eyes bulged, she held her sword right in front of her as every part of her wobbled. “Call it a _very_ educated guess, but I’m not strong enough, all of us together aren’t strong enough—end of discussion. Got it?” 

Everyone in the Black Eagles, including Ashe, quickly nodded. Hubert seemed strangely the most approving of all of them, bearing a small smile across his deathly pale face. 

“Here’s how we’re gonna do this: Ashe, Caspar, Hubert, Edelgard, Ferdinand. All five of you are on the left side of the battlefield. Bernadetta, Petra, Dorothea, Linhardt, you four are with me on the right. Stay the hell away from the center, if you know what’s good for you. Any questions? No? Good.” 

Everything about Byleth’s demeanor seemed off. Usually, any emotion she showed was often very slight, only faintly appearing in her face, while her tone of voice remained decidedly neutral. By this was something else entirely. No trace of calmness was there, instead replaced by a palpable apprehension and anxiety that appeared quite foreign to Ashe, and judging by everyone else’s looks of concern, he wasn’t the only one to notice. 

“Alright, Black Eagles, move out!” Byleth pointed at Ashe’s group. “You four, I can trust you to make sure Caspar doesn’t rush right in, right?” 

Caspar immediately began to deafeningly shout, “Hey! Why do you—” 

And with one angry glare, the brigand shut his mouth, his forehead drenched with sweat. “I’ve been with you long enough to know how you’ll act. You’re probably thinking that this Death Knight would be a fun fight, right? Maybe that you could take him on? You can't. You, as well as the rest of us, would get butchered beyond recognition. That give you enough of a reason?” 

Caspar gulped and frantically nodded his head, as he lined up right next to Ashe and Edelgard. His entire body began to shake, and everyone else said nothing, only following the professor’s orders. 

Ashe wasn’t sure what was scaring him more, the sight of this so-called Death Knight, the horrifying omens that Byleth relayed to them, that she could seemingly tell what would all go down before anything even happened, or the fuming curtness of her behavior. If her showing anxiety was foreign, anger seemed borderline out of this world, for Byleth. 

“Anyway, Petra would be the only physical fighter on the left side, and I trust you guys the most, when it comes to working with Caspar.” Her gaze shifted to Ashe and Edelgard, in specific. “You two can probably reign him in the most, so make extra sure he stays out of that Death knight’s zone, got it?” 

The duo nodded as they crowded around Caspar, like two hawks watching over their young chick, to his growing annoyance. 

Like clockwork, two myrmidons appeared to their north, brandishing their swords in short order. Edelgard held the line in front, unveiling a shield that was even taller than her whole body. How someone so small can carry something so large and heavy with such ease, Ashe may never know. 

The first swordsman lunged at her, only to have his jaw crack against the force of her gargantuan barrier. With the swing of her axe, his whole body was crushed into the earth, with a gaping, brutal spinal wound, for his troubles. The other swordfighter used her shield as a springboard, leaping over her head to prepare an assault from above, when a purple orb of Miasma Δ immediately blew up, right in his face. 

A bowman soon followed behind and sniped at the Adrestian royal, and Ashe intercepted the shot with an arrow of his own, both nicking each other in midair and altering trajectory. Ferdinand and Caspar swooped in behind the arrow, rushing towards the enemy archer. 

A soldier and fighter popped out from behind him, closing in on the two in no time. Ashe prepared an experimental long-range shot, but Hubert beat him to the punch through his use of explosive, magical slime blobs that laid waste to his adversaries. With both opposing melee fighters down, Ferdinand tripped up the bowman with his lance, and Caspar pummeled him to the ground in an aerial strike, knocking him unconscious against the ground. Without thinking, Ashe rushed to the fallen enemies to check their pulse and to his relief, all were alive, if broken and unconscious. 

He shakingly sighed as a tear slipped from his eye. A relieved smile broke out across his face as he whispered to himself, “Thank goodness, no one’s dead, right now.” 

Hubert immediately gripped him by the arm and yanked him up, before clutching his shoulder. “We don’t have time to worry about if the enemy is alive, we have to subdue anyone we can, lest they kill us, first. You must get the job done, and _then_ you can see if they’re alive. Trust that we know what we’re doing.” 

“Uh—r-right! Sorry...” 

Hubert sharply exhaled. “You don’t need to apologize, just learn not to do it again. This is a battlefield; you’d do good to remember that.” The pale mystic then continued to run on ahead, shadowing his liege at every turn. 

Before he could take in those words, Ashe found himself attacked by an enemy priest, who fired a blast of Nosferatu at his feet. He swiftly jumped to his feet and started moving between columns, trying to stealth around her. She continued to lob weak blasts of Nosferatu, pushing him around the tomb. He pondered why she’d use such limp charges, and just as he turned his head, he saw the shredded circle the Death Knight left on the ground, and swerved into the Nosferatu blast, enduring it. “Nice try, but I’m not falling for it!” 

She grimaced as she tried to flee, only to be surprised by Caspar, who’d balled his fists behind him. “Sorry about this, but I’m not able to let you hur—” A blast of darkness smote his chest, and he was sent reeling against the ground. 

A dark mage lied just behind a nearby column, and as he gathered more dark energy, Ashe fired a curved shot right at his arm, knocking his attack off course. Caspar rose from the ground, clutching his searing wound, before leaping out of the way from another Nosferatu blast. A combined burst of white and dark magic flew in the boys’ direction, and Caspar tackled Ashe to the ground, just barely avoiding the explosion of fused magic. 

The brigand gave him a winking smile, as Ashe’s legs began to uncontrollably wobble in terror. Caspar had accidentally slid right past the ground-down circle, and Ashe could hear the Death Knight's twisted, mechanical growl. He could feel his veins freeze to absolute zero, his skin blanched, and he stammered & sputtered in his mortal horror. 

The priest grinned as she slinked away with the Dark Mage, like a pair of hateful serpents, having trapped the two boys right where they’d wanted them. 

“I told you that if you stayed away that I would not chase you. But you wouldn’t listen. And now... my thirst for blood must be quenched.” He spun his nightmarish steed around and smacked his lance against his palm, before pointing it forward as he gnarled his other, twitching hand. He seethed “What happens to you two is no longer under my control. Now, let the rapture... begin...” 

* * *

It’s been maybe about an hour of perusing the overstuffed cathedral, and Felix’s brain had already been numbed to nothingness. There was nothing to do but gawk at the huge crowd and standby on the highest floor, bored out of his mind. Looking down at the people below, like a giant among countless ants, lost its luster extremely quickly, and the night started to go on and on. 

Sylvain seemed to echo this feeling, as he slumped over on the ground, resting his cheek on his hand, looking sullen and just plain tired. “We could be spending this night actually doing something fun around here, for a change, but some genius _had_ to hire a hit.” 

“Seriously, this is agonizing.” Felix slumped down next to Sylvain, lying his head against a pillar behind him. “I could be training, or finishing that damn book, or sleeping, or doing literally anything other than just wait for this to end, like I'm in class.” 

“Well, bellyaching isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Dimitri held his arms over the edge of the railing, gazing down on the mass of people below. “Complaining and lazing around is only going to make this take that much longer.” 

“Then how do you suppose we make the time pass, then, boar,” Felix grumbled, crossing his arms and wearing his irritation on his sleeve. 

“I don’t know, Felix, maybe we could actually have one conversation where we _aren’t_ at each other's throats.” Dimitri turned back to Felix, leaning backwards and folding his arms, in return. “That would be nice, for a change.” 

Felix birthed his signature, aggravated scowl. “My dignity isn’t so lacking that I’d just nod and agree with everything you say. We’ve been over this: I can’t stand you and everything you stand for. What the hell could we possibly talk about, that wouldn’t end up in me getting angrier, than when I’d started?” 

“Well...” Sylvain wore his usual, insufferable grin. “Maybe we can talk about the good old—” 

“I’d rather throw myself off the rafters,” Felix interjected, scowling at his friend. “You know how I feel about digging up the past.” 

“Come on, you don’t want to relive the time when His Highness posed as Ingrid, so we and Glenn could take her to that joust, a few years back?” 

Loathe as he is to admit it, a small chuckle escape Felix’s lips, as he recollected that day. “Okay, that was... actually kind of hilarious, I’ll admit. I can’t believe we actually got away with that, back then. And Glenn would constantly bring up that story, for months on end.” 

“Why is it that every time you want to mention the past, it’s always at our expense?” Dimitri whined as he pinched the bridge of his nose, while the rest of his face glimmered in red. 

“What can I say? They were good memories.” Sylvain leaned over on his knee, cocking an eyebrow. 

The young noble pointed his thumb at the libertine. “Well, if the boar is so upset about just the two of us having embarrassing stories, how about we bring up the time that Sylvain, over here, thought it would be real funny to have a competition with Lorenz over who could get more dates, and just kept flailing like an idiot, that whole time.” 

“Hey, we don’t talk about that!” Sylvain pointed back at Felix, with dread in his amber eyes. “I was just having a really off... three weeks.” 

Dimitri’s face lit up with a rare, mischievous smirk, as he held his chin. “Need we even _mention_ the Lord Gwendal incident? Poor Sylvain was crying his eyes out, as Ingrid had to basically vouch for his life. Lord Rowe and his son at least looked like they were having the time of their life, watching that affair.” 

Sylvain rose to his feet, with his hands right out in front of him. “Look, I thought she was just a homely stable girl. How was I supposed to know that she was the daughter of the fiercest knight in Fodlan, when she was dressed like that?” 

“While we’re on the topic of striking out, it can’t get much worse than the boar tried to impress that one brunette back in Fhirdiad, by lifting up a horse, only to have it fall right on top of him.” A sardonic grin materialized on Felix’s face, and he was more than happy to aim that in the prince’s direction. “If that stupid crest of yours had manifested, then you might’ve had a chance. But because you and self-control go together like Sylvain and abstinence, you ended up in the ward for a few days, bawling your eyes out.” 

“Oh, so now you want to throw around stories about me?” Dimitri teasingly bit his lip, suppressing his enormous grin. “Felix, do you remember when you and Ingrid were acting out that one opera of a princess and knight, only you volunteered to play the princess, just so Ingrid could pretend to be a knight for a bit?” He looked up with a very teasing visage. “I must say, it was quite a sight, seeing young you in that gown...” 

Felix’s blood ran colder than a Sreng winter, and he began to stammer, while Sylvain gave a mugging, surprised expression in his direction, now armed with a new way to infuriate him. There are very few things that terrify him that aren’t Dimitri, but letting that part of his past out was one of them. 

Sylvain’s smile continued to stretch to borderline comical proportions. “Also, Felix, you are one to talk about embarrassing romance stories. Putting aside our dear friend, I’ve seen those cute tea parties you’ve been having with Lysithea, including you actually eating little candies and sweets that she gave you. You’re really desperate for her to like you, to be eating those, aren’t you?” 

Dimitri’s jaw dropped and he began to chuckle, maddeningly, as the duelist defensively crossed his arms. “Forgive me for having a companion that doesn’t annoy me, twenty-four/seven. And for the record, she actually knows how to make sweets that don’t put me in a damn sugar coma, I’m not eating them, just for her sake. Even you understand that almost no one in Faerghus can cook.” 

He merely shrugged his arms. “Eh, true enough, I guess. Aside from Ashe and Dedue... yeah, I can’t think of anybody in Faerghus whose cooking is beyond ‘passable.’” 

“Oh, trust me, we’re fully aware of that, Sylvain.” Dimitri casually shifted his back against the parapet, yet again. “While Felix can get quite...” He jovially smiled at Felix, to his eternal annoyance. “picky. You haven’t exactly been a paragon of accepting tastes. You claimed that your family’s prized dish was, and I quote, ‘just okay, I guess...’” 

“And Sylvain, if you want to dig up my ‘fits’ over food, over and over again, let’s talk about how even spec of dirt is enough to make you crumple.” Felix gently punched his friend’s arm, shamefully indulging himself in the levity of this moment. “You’re as bad as Lorenz, when it comes to taking in grime.” 

“And when there’s heat, he’s always, _always_ the first one to complain. Summer time is basically just one long misery session, when he's around.” 

Sylvain rubbed his fingers through his messy, bright red hair. “I’m sorry that I’m already just too hot to handle as is. Any more heat, and I’d just incinerate anything I’d touch.” 

“Yes, because you don’t already make people want to burn whatever part of them you’ve touched, as is.” 

Dimitri’s laughter became louder and more boisterous, and Felix nearly joined right on with them, while Sylvain stood right beside them with a smile on his face. For one moment, everything seemed alright, between those three. 

However, just as soon as the happy times came, they went,for as Dimitri’s laughs grew wilder, the haunting image of his cackling rampage through Galatea territory would not escape Felix's mind. The wide, euphoric smile on his face burned right back into his memory, as did the maniacal, tormenting screams. As did when that vile anger had been sicked on Felix, with those eyes of blood red. 

The myrmidon started to walk away, incredibly perturbed, and Dimitri called out to him, “Felix? Is there something on your mind?” 

“Yeah, and I’d rather you stay the hell away.” 

The blonde man rushed to Felix’s side, trying to converse with him, like he was an actual person. “Felix, if there’s something wrong, I can—” 

“What’s wrong is you, boar.” His breathing started to become quavery, but he continued to force himself to press on. 

Dimitri blocked Felix’s path, with arms outstretched. “This again—look, I get that you’re still angry at me over what had happened in the past, but I’m trying to get bet—” 

“‘Get better,’ he says.” Felix couldn’t help but want to gag, just at the mere sound of that. “What? You’re calling strangling me, ‘getting better,’ now? Or whatever you said to Ashe that made him so nervous?” 

Dimitri rubbed his shoulder as his eyes drifted to the ground. “Oh, that... look, I was just trying to be encouraging to him.” 

Felix mercilessly frowned, placing his hand to his hip, before tilting his chin upwards. “Oh yeah? What did you say to him, then? Tell me what ‘encouraging’ words you gave him.” 

“Uh, guys?” Sylvain tried to get between the two, but Felix refused to budge. 

The younger man’s voice became booming and wrathful, screaming out, “Answer the question, you beast.” 

“I...” Dimitri let out a long, forlorn sigh. “I told him that given how I’ve behaved in the past and that I can’t...” His pauses gave Felix very little reasons to have faith in him. “That I can’t blame him for wanting vengeance, against those who’ve hurt his father. But I only meant that I get where he was coming from, not that he should indulge, in it.” 

Felix’s bitter, irate laughter echoed through the top floor. All he could really do was shake his head as he tried not to lose his mind. “I don’t even know why you keep trying to prove your innocence, when you just keep making my point, for me.” He swerved around Dimitri, refusing to look back at his former best friend. “And to think, just for a moment, I’d almost been able to ignore that.” He stormed off to the opposite side of the top floor, in a raging heat. 

He threw his body against the wall, smashing his fist against the wall, wanting nothing more than to just break something in two, until he heard Sylvain somberly walking towards him. “Hey look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d get you that upset.” He rubbed the back of his head with a disconcerted look on his face. “I was kind of just hoping for a bit of levity, I wasn’t expecting for you to get so upset—well, not _this_ upset.” 

“I just... can’t with him.” Felix sighed as he hung over the railing. “No matter what I do, I always see under that mask of his, and I...” He shuddered in place, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his growing unease. “Just imagine having to be around someone who disgusts and terrifies you to your core. It’s not something I can do, so easily. It would be a damn sight better, if I could just ignore that, but I can’t put that day out of my mind.” 

“You’re really going to tell me to imagine what it’s like to be terrified by someone I’m supposed to care about, really Felix?” The philanderer’s face was uncharacteristically enraged, his voice lowered to a deep growl, and his entire posture was closed and rigid. “You know damn well the kind of life I lived, years ago. You were the one to pull me out of that well. Your dad is who kept me in your home to warm up, after being left stranded in the mountains for a week. I know how you’re feeling more than anyone, you prick!” 

The swordsman looked over to his incensed friend, before his now embarrassed gaze shifted towards the ground. “...Right, Miklan. How could I forget about that?” 

“I don’t know how you could.” Sylvain’s cadence grew unstable, almost sounding broken. He gulped as he went on. “I’m not going to tear into you over His Highness, when I get that way about my scumbag of an older brother, got it?” He put his hand on Felix’s shoulder. "Just... don’t say that I don’t, okay? You know that’s a bit of a sore spot, for me.” 

“Fine, I guess it’s only fair in that case” Felix lightly jolted his shoulder, nudging at Sylvain to let him go. His cheeks began to heat up a tad. “Look, for as much as you piss me off—and believe me, you really know how to make me want to throttle you—I... don’t like seeing you get hurt. I wouldn’t have made that promise with you, if I didn’t feel that way.” 

“You mean when we swore that we’d die together?” A short, breathless laugh left his mouth, as a bizarrely warm, sincere smile broke out, on his face. “I didn’t know if you were still so on board with that.” 

“I made that oath, because I trusted you, and I’ll keep it to my grave.” A dark sneer formed on his face, and a twinge of exasperation seeped into his speech, “and for the love of the goddess, stop being so flippant about your own life. If you don’t want one of us to leave the other behind, you’ll have to stop putting yourself in danger, like a dumbass. We’re supposed to be in this, together, and I don’t want you getting yourself killed, got it?” 

Sylvain cleared his throat, with the tips of his ears reddening. “Y-yeah, I get you. I’ve done some stupid, stupid crap, but I’m not about to break our oath to each other. It’s one of the few things left, that I’ve got going for me.” He held out his hand to Felix. “I swear I’ll try to keep myself from dying on you. Promise me that no matter what, we’ll always have this, if nothing else?” 

Felix could feel the rancid blush on his face begin to emerge and he shook Sylvain’s hand as fast as possible, before marching back to their lookout spot. “I-I’ll keep that promise... anyway let’s just get back to the boar and make sure he doesn’t break anything, when left alone, alright?” 

His lifelong friend nodded and led the way back, both not saying anything else to each other as they walked off together. But in that silence, Felix found himself strangely more at peace than he’s been in a long, long time. 

* * *

The Death Knight’s dark horse blitzed forward at lightning speeds, closing in on the two boys in a matter of moments, his ominous cackles ringing from the ginormous walls of the mausoleum. He held his scythe above his head, and before Ashe could think, he tackled Caspar out of the way. 

The reaper smashed the earth just beside the duo, and ravaged, broken cinderblocks flew into the sky. 

Ashe flipped backwards, readying his aim, and let go with all of the force his shaking limbs could muster. The aberration tilted his head just enough to dodge, and the innards of his armor, as well as some lights on its exterior, shone with the same alarming red of his eyes. As he reeled up his lance, Edelgard leapt into the fray, blocking Ashe’s body with her mighty shield. The creature swung his lance with a monstrous strength and the archer was sent flying as the princess ground her boots against the stone floor. 

Ashe slid against the floor, and looked up to find Edelgard’s shield had been thoroughly cleaved into, whilst emitting a dark violet smoke, despite the distance between the three. “How foolish of you. Did you really think I couldn't slaughter from afar, as well?” 

“Caspar, what did Professor Byleth tell you about staying away from him!?” Edelgard screamed, her once resolute nature giving way to an immense dread. She lifted up her ripped shield, gritting her teeth in quiet fear. 

“Sorry, I didn’t se—” Before he could finish, the Death Knight had already rushed towards him, his lance just by the boy’s easily-shredable throat. A gale of darkness separated the two, forcing the Death Knight’s mare to grind her hooves against the ground, keep her footing. 

“It would be in your best interest to leave. Now.” Hubert barked, charging an ethereal, black aura within both palms. 

“You... I don’t take orders from the likes of you...” The living weapon’s breaths shook with exhilaration and stretched out both of his arms to the side. “If you want me to listen, you’ll have to—” 

Hubert spun around and released a massive, pitch-black blob, right in front of the Death Knight. Within the spheroid, two orbs of bright red began to glow, and a flash of purple began to form around the dark mass. 

The Death Knight took both of his hands and squeezed the burst of shadow, dispelling it with the barest amount of effort, releasing dark wisps of energy all around the arena. “This is nothing, compared to what I can do.” The red lights within his armor glimmered once more, and he swung his fist forward. Hubert immediately rushed forward as violent, purple vibrations manifested where his head had laid. 

Hubert formed a burst of Miasma Δ in his hand, holding it by the opposite cheek. The Death Knight reared his lance on high and before he could swing, Hubert lobbed the blast under his own feet, propelling him over the beast and forcing him to whiff his slash. The deathly mage ground his sword against the Death Knight’s back, before using a blast of flame to recoil himself away from the spiked menace. 

The Death Knight chuckled as the scarlet glow within his armor glistened yet again, whilst the galloping sounds of Ferdinand’s stallion drew nearer with each second. The Death Knight swung his scythe, only to be met by the ginger noble’s steel lance. 

Ferdinand grunted, using all of his might to even equal the Death Knight’s casual strength, croaking out, “It would go against everything I stood for, if I just let you prey on the weak, like thi—” 

Before he could finish, sparks of glowing ember charged around the reaper’s sickle, melting through Ferdinand’s pike with little effort. Hubert used the opportunity to knock the legs of the Death Knight’s horse out from under her with another blast of Death Γ. 

The savage lunatic smashed his feet against the tiles on the ground, grinding his spurs to plant his feet down. A ghastly cackle erupted from the vicious mask, whilst Caspar soared into the air, screaming his lungs out with his arm held right behind him, ready to clobber his foe. The Death Knight merely tilted his head and smashed Caspar’s face from behind with the back of his fist, before gripping him by his faux-hawk. The Death Knight salivatingly snarled and slammed his kneecap against the boy’s gut, sending him skidding across the ground and gasping for air as he held his surely racking stomach. 

In his panic, Ashe fired one of the longest shots he ever made and struck the Death Knight from several tens of yards away, just barely clipping his armor. He turned to the Blue Lions’ archer and wagged his finger, exuding blood red lights. “You naïve child, my strength knows no range.” He quickly raised his lance to the sky, and a blue thunderbolt dropped down from above that Ashe could only slightly dodge, burning a large chunk of his left arm. 

He let out a scream of agony as he held his singed limb, feeling as hot as the eternal flames, itself, which quickly cooled as a green light showered over him from above. Ashe turned around to find Linhardt, preparing more charges of Physic. The heavenly golden light of the Crest of Cethleann glistened throughout his body, bolstering his healing magic to new heights. The cleric looked positively pale and horrified at what was transpiring, even more terrified than Ashe, panickedly muttering to himself, “It’ll be alright, the Professor will fix this... the Professor will...” 

Ashe looked all over the necropolis to find Byleth somewhere, _anywhere_ , in this nightmare of a battlefield. She’s easily the most capable member of the group, so surely if he were to bring her over to the Death Knight, they’d be on far more even footing, if even just a little. However, the boy saw Byleth at the very end of the Holy Mausoleum, desperate and terrified as she was swarmed by several priests and soldiers. He turned to see if any other Black Eagle could help, but he quickly saw that Bernadetta, Petra, and Dorothea were stationed in the rightmost portion of the crypt, stuck fighting another faction of the Western Church’s lackeys. The Black Eagles were without their professor, and they were all going to pay dearly for that. 

Edelgard bolted with her axe in tow at the Death Knight, activating the awesome power of her Seiros Crest, which the monster in human skin blocked with his lance, now grunting as he struggled to keep the princess’s strength in check. “I see that you’re as powerful as you make yourself out to be... This will be fun...” 

Immediately, the Death Knight began to pick up speed, and assaulted Edelgard with an onslaught of slashes, ripping chunk after chunk of metal off her armor, while she could barely keep up, on the defense. Once she stumbled, and the Death Knight lifted her high into the air and smashed his leg against her body, sending her flying into a nearby column. An electrical surge enveloped his hand, but before he could release it, Hubert dropped a mass of Mire β, right on top of him, resulting in a massive, slimy explosion. 

The retainer appeared quietly furious, his phenomenally thin eyebrows creased to extreme degrees and his teeth chattered as he charged two orbs of Miasma Δ in his hands, ready to unload even more of his fury on the Death Knight. 

The ghastly mist dispersed in an instant with the mere wave of the Death Knight's arm, and he began to swing his scythe again, glowing bright red. Ferdinand tackled Hubert to the ground, taking the fearsome strike to his back. 

“What on earth did you do that for?” The mage screamed with a voice swathed in an uncommon concern. 

The cavalier winced in writhing pain, bearing a gentle smile on his face. “I couldn’t just let him cut you down, like that. Are you hurt, Hubert?” 

“I—” Hubert blushed with an intense crimson glow, looking simultaneously embarrassed and enraged, and pushed Ferdinand off, yelling at Linhardt, “H-hurry up and heal him already, will you!?” 

The young priest consolidated a plethora of healing light and released it over Ferdinand’s body, mending the worst of his gruesome wound. However, the Death Knight quickly pounced on top of them, and before Ashe could ready his strike, Edelgard entered the fray with a scowl on her face. Her axe released red-and-black sparks, as she fired the Death Knight several feet towards the south. He tried use his blade and the spurs on his feet to slow his rapid sliding, to little success. 

The commoner looked over at Edelgard in absolute awe, his jaw on the floor. “How in the world did you just _do_ that?” 

“This isn't exactly the best time for chitchat, Ashe!” She bellowed, readying her axe for another attack, grunting to herself, “just how in the hell are we supposed to beat him? It's not like—” 

Edelgard’s eyes darted around the room, before landing on a subset of the Western Church’s lackeys, to the northwest. “It seems some of those conspirators want to stay out of the Death Knight’s range. Hmm...” She turned to her colleagues, as the Death Knight began to rev up his body. “If the Death Knight craves blood, maybe it would be best if his friends gave him a nice meal, don’t you think?” 

“But how do we—” 

“We lure him.” She pointed over to the apostates. “Prof. Byleth had taught us that baiting out the enemy is a key strategy in turning the tides of battle. If we can bring the Death Knight over to his colleagues, maybe we can use that to not only distract him, but his colleagues.” 

The metallic monstrosity loomed ever-closer, dashing after the Black Eagles like Raphael, hunting down a soon-to-close food cart. 

Edelgard pondered aloud, “Now, we just need to figure out quickly what students to send over—” 

“I’ll go.” Ashe immediately brought out another arrow, steeling himself. “Between my running speed and my range, I’ve got the best shot at baiting him. There’s no need for any of you to get caught up in this!” 

“Wha—Ashe, that’s crazy!” Edelgard cried out, with an audible fright. “At least let some of us back you up!” 

Ashe furiously shook his head. “No, the rest of you should get Professor Byleth. I’ve caused you enough trouble, as it is, these past few months. Caspar wouldn’t have gotten into that circle if it weren’t for me, so let me take this on, by myself. If you can speed up getting to the professor, we can end this faster, while reducing the people we put at risk. Just trust me, alright, Lady Edelgard?” 

Her fearful glare, snapped into a graver flavor in a matter of seconds, and she reluctantly nodded at him. “If you’re really so set on this, then go on ahead. Just promise that you won’t get too reckless, understood?” 

With a mixture of a burning flame and crippling dread in his heart, he nodded back at her. “Understood. You can leave this to me. Now go, before it’s too late!” The young knight heaved a bolt towards the Death Knight, shouting with as much bravado as he could muster. “Hey, Death Knight! If you’re wanting some blood, try and get it from me, if you’re so tough!” 

A hellish cackle erupted from his bleak visage. “Oh... if you’re so eager for your own death... I'll be happy to oblige.” He sliced the arrow in half, rushing past the Black Eagles as Ashe made his way to the north. “I’ll even make sure to kill you up close. Nice and slow...” 

Ashe couldn’t help but gulp in fear as he forced himself to pick up speed, occasionally jumping and spinning around to snipe at the Death Knight, who either evaded or nullified every single shot the archer could throw at him. 

The predator and his prey got closer and closer to the northwest edge, and the clerics, seeing this, began to run away for their lives. 

_Goddess, please forgive me for what I’m about to do._

Ashe fired his extremely long-range shots at some of the heretics, managing to send some to the floor. In the process however, his bowstring snapped in half from the continuous havoc his deadeye attacks had wreaked on it, to his dismay. 

“Well, well, well, it seems you’ll have to fight me up close from now on, boy...” The Death Knight teasingly clamored, making Ashe’s blood pressure spike even more. 

The adrenaline pumping in his veins made him run even faster than his limits normally would allow, and he took out his axe as the dark mage and priest from eariler began to take their aim at him. The dark mage released a toxic blast of Miasma Δ, which Ashe just barely slid under, and luckily for him, the explosion held the Death Knight back, if only slightly. 

“ **Quit getting in** **the** **way** **of my** **hunt**.” A curving violet light drove through the man’s neck, sending his head spinning into the air, freezing Ashe’s blood solid. The priest struck Ashe as he was distracted, knocking him flat on his back. The commoner fearfully looked to his rear to find the Death Knight quickly looming over him, only for the black behemoth to pass him by and maul the archer in front of him, ripping the poor man to bloody shreds with all the effort of swatting a fly. “You’re ruining the fun of my chase...” 

Ashe immediately leapt up and started towards the brick columns, and the Death Knight continued to pursue. He struck the columns with his deathly lance, ripping them apart with great ease, showering Ashe in debris. 

Ashe turned his head to see Byleth fighting one-on-one with the head mage, as the other Black Eagles began to make their way, right to her. Before he could even think of running over to her for help, the Death Knight intercepted him, towering over him like a genocidal mountain. “Oh... I won’t have anyone save you, when you’ve been so kind as to grab my attention. This intimate affair needs no intruders. The fun has only just begun...” 

The boy immediately leaped back as the Death Knight dropped his scythe down onto the ground, pulverizing it into bits. Ashe heaved his axe at the sable behemoth, who blocked the attack with the hilt of his own weapon, firing it back at Ashe, which the latter just barely caught. He immediately changed course to the west, where he found two myrmidons that were standing off to the distance, readying their blades. 

He bolted to the sword fighters with the Death Knight in tow and, predictably, they ran away at the sight of the living embodiment of death, itself. The latter switched gears, to chase after the other combatants, murmuring, “If those of the Western Church are so eager to sate my hunger, they may as well do it, themselves.” 

Before Ashe knew it, the Death Knight snapped his fingers, and the air in front of one of the myrmidons crackled with immense electrical power, before a monstrous thunderstrike laid waste to the earth before them, sending both to the ground in shock. Ashe, seeing that the Death Knight was about to enjoy a fresh new set of victims, once again turned around to sprint back to Byleth, tormented by the agonizing wails of the Western Churchgoers. 

_I ’m so, so sorry. But if I have to choose between my friends and the people who... _

Even rationalizing it in his head made him want to vomit. Because of him, even more corpses began to pile up, more souls have been silenced, because of his own doing. Regardless of whether or not he wishes it, a trail of carcasses follows him, wherever he goes. 

_Some knight, I am._

As he continued to drown in his own self-loathing, the shrieks of pain and the sounds of crunching bones & squishing organs soon stopped, immediately followed by booming, storming footsteps and scraping metal. 

He turned behind him to see the Death Knight right behind him, with his scythe held high above him. Ashe placed his axe in front of him as a means of protection, to no avail. The ruthless knight unleashed a horrid barrage of slashes that wracked Ashe’s body, covering him in numerous, bloody wounds and throwing him to the floor. 

The soon-to-be cadaver tried to crawl away from the Death Knight, using what little strength he had left, only to get picked up by the throat, dangling in the air as the Death Knight held his scythe right by his nape. He tried to flail his legs, managing to nick the pitch-black killer’s chin, but nothing would release him from that ironclad grip. 

The Death Knight held Ashe’s face close to his unearthly, terrifying face. His demonic, fiery red eyes peered into Ashe’s very soul, his juddering, ecstatic breaths took all of Ashe’s away in sheer mortal panic, his menacing aura snuffed out any sense of hope the child had left, and as he prepared to finish Ashe off in one final swipe, all the lowly student could do was hang there, petrified. 

“ **GET THE HELL OFF OF HIM, RIGHT NOW** , **YOU SON OF A BITCH**!!!” 

A scarlet, bladed whip flew through the ether, piercing the Death Knight’s shoulder and making him recoil, releasing his grip on Ashe. 

The bloodied wreck of a man looked up to find Byleth, wreathed in an ethereal green inferno and shining a bizarre insignia in front of her, bearing the most vicious, enraged mien he’d ever seen her wear. Her body violently shook and her voice lowered to a venomous, bestial rumble. Her teeth grated, her already wild hair had flung in all directions and her wide eyes bulged even further, no longer appearing light blue, but now the same indomitable green as the nova that enveloped her. 

The whip she wielded retracted into a fragmented, cracked blade of dull yellow, looking not unlike Catherine’s infamous Thunderbrand. A massive, circular hole appeared right in the middle of its wing-like hilt, as if some power source of sorts had been carved directly out of it. Even in its possibly deformed state, that blade looked no less powerful than any other Heroes’ Relic. In fact, something seemed... special, about this weapon. Something that Ashe couldn’t entirely pin down, at the moment. 

The other students were right behind her, watching in both amazement and trepidation, especially the likes of Edelgard and Hubert, who’d held their mouths wide open at the sight of the fiery professor 

The Death Knight gripped his arm and let out a serious of deep, distorted chuckles, soothing his shredded shoulder. “That sword... I see. What a pleasant surprise.” 

Byleth sprinted at him, leaving behind a trail of flames and soared into the air, swinging the relic down with all of her might. The Death Knight caught her blade with his scythe, still somehow able to hold her back, “Not now. I lack both my full strength and my mare.” With a swing of his sickle, Byleth was thrown back, grinding her sword against the ground as a foothold. “I won’t kill you right now, but next time... next time our duel will not have such a disappointing conclusion.” 

He reached to his side and pulled out a bizarre, spherical rock, with a dial on top. The stone had a cavalcade of unnatural blue lines adorned all over; almost unearthly in their design. He cranked the dial on the rock, and switched his gaze over to Ashe. “Even though you stood absolutely no chance... I thank you for the chase. I’ll reward you in kind, next time we meet.” 

Every single implication Ashe could think of from that ominous statement had filled him with supreme dread. Nothing good can come from whatever he was hinting at. 

In a flash of dark magenta, the Death Knight warped to the center of the Mausoleum, right behind his unconscious steed. He petted the sleeping beast, before vanishing without a trace. 

The class looked all over the place to find the reaper that was no longer there, while the mercenary ran over to Ashe, who was still trembling from his near-death encounter. “Ashe! The hell were you thinking, taking on that creep by yourself!? Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed? I specifically warned you all to get away from him...” Her wrathful eyes made their way over to Caspar, who was rubbing the back of his head in clear embarrassment. “...and don't think I’ve got nothing to say to _you_ , Caspar.” 

“I-I...” Ashe stammered, completely unable to form words. All he could really do was make noises, for he was far too tongue tied to even be able to make a single sentence. 

Byleth quickly wrapped her arms around him, whispering, “That was really stupid of you, but thank you for thinking about my students and getting them to me. I'm so, so angry, right now, but you’ve really saved my class, Ashe.” 

Several tears of utter relief ran out of Ashe’s eyes, as he hugged her in kind, finally feeling able to let out his incredible fright. As Linhardt’s healing magic began to mend the boy’s grievous wounds and he was lifted to his trembling feet, Edelgard and Hubert moved toward Byleth, the former inquiring in visible astonishment, “Professor, do you have any idea what you’re holding, at the moment?” 

“I... well I know it must be a Heroes’ Relic, but...” She looked down at the brilliant sword, immensely confused. 

“That burst of flames, that sword...” Hubert placed his hand on his lower lip, his own eyes widened in shock, before darkly chuckling. “Who would’ve guessed that our dear professor would hail from the same bloodline as Nemesis, himself?” 

The entire class stared at Hubert and Byleth in utter disbelief, as she still remained as perplexed as ever. “I’m sorry, Nemesis? I’m afraid I’m not—” 

“Hey is the—oh, I guess you all have this under control.” 

Ashe and the Black Eagles changed their line of sight to the south, where Catherine and some Knights of Seiros stood. “I-is that... the Sword of the Creator!?” 

“It seems to be the very same.” Edelgard stood upright, hands behind her back, her voice reverting to the calm collectedness everyone knew so well. 

“How on earth?” Catherine turned to her colleagues, pointing at them. “You all, go round up the stragglers, while I help take care of everything, over here.” 

The underlings nodded before they dispersed around and out of the tomb, while Catherine marched over to Byleth in amazement. “This entire time, you were a child of the King of Liberation, himself.” 

Byleth jumped to her feet, crossing her arms under her chest. “Everyone keeps throwing around these names and terms I don’t get. ‘Sword of the Creator,’ ‘Nemesis,’ ‘King of Liberation,’ can someone please tell me what any of those mean?” 

“How _don’t_ you know anything about this?” Linhardt bluntly asked, his eye twitching. “You bear the Crest of the greatest conqueror in all of Fodlan, and you don’t—” He rubbed his temples, in agitation. 

"In any case, I think it’s best you all turn in,” Catherine said, as she peered in perplexion at the mysterious sword Byleth possessed. “It seems some of you got roughed up pretty badly, and clearly a lot’s happened, before we got here.” She pointed her thumb to the stairs at the very forefront of the Mausoleum. “We’ll take it from here. But as for you, Byleth, I have some questions that I’m going to need answered.” 

“If you’re going to ask me why I’m able to wield this thing, I don’t have an answer for you.” A twinge of irritation made its way into the teacher’s voice. “I’m just finding out that apparently this ‘King of Liberation’—whoever he is—might be a relative of mine. I am as much of a loss as you, Catherine.” 

The electric knight sighed in frustration, grinding her teeth together. “Alright, fine then. But I’ll still insist you to come with me and talk to Lady Rhea about this. She’ll probably have a better idea of what’s going on, here. But the rest of you, out. Now.” 

The class began to scamper away, all of them tired and shaken beyond belief, each pondering in silence the implications of the night. Not only was there a mass slaughterer on the loose, but Byleth, a mercenary seemingly from out of nowhere, may have ties to the greatest threat Fodlan had ever faced in its millennium-long history. 

As time goes on in this monastery, more and more dilemmas and oddities pop up with little warning. At this point, Ashe was about expecting for someone to try to raise the dead, at this point. It seemed about as plausible as everything else that’s happened, throughout the past two months. 

More and more of such absolutely ridiculous thoughts began to crop up in his head, for the only thing that was on his mind as he left was what in the blue hell awaited him next, in Garreg Mach Monastery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- “Chapter 3 will be my longest chapter, at least until I get to WC’s second half. And this one should only be around 7k words, at most. I’m sure I can make the Masoleum mission not *too* long,” said this genius. So clearly, my “self-restraint” is more of a *suggestion* than an actual restraint. That also goes for my kind of (ok, very) tryhard way of describing Jeritza, throughout that whole scuffle. I really wanted to improve on my somewhat lacking detail, for environments and characters, and that kind of made this go on for quite a bit, if my self-indulgent action writing didn’t already make it long enough. 
> 
> \- As for the whole “stay behind the line,” thing, I was just goofing around with Jeritza chasing you on Maddening, instead of holding still when you’re in his movement range. Figured I might as well have fun with that first timer’s trap. 
> 
> \- Since Byleth is both a merc and apparently speaks like Jeralt, if Alois is any indication, and there are a few lines in the JP version that reflect a mercenary/slightly cruder nature (that were probably cut because of censorship reasons, particularly the [nightcrawler](https://www.reddit.com/r/fireemblem/comments/cm61mr/edelgard_c_support_japanese_lines_difference/) /[yobai](https://twitter.com/nggggsw/status/1228824532984590338?lang=en) line), I’ll be writing her a bit blunter and crasser than most depictions, when her emotions run high (hence her behavior in this chapter and me having her swear a bit, throughout the fic). She’s not going to be *as* crude or blunt as her dad, especially in her softer scenes, but I kind of want to run with her being a mercenary, as it gives me more to work with. 
> 
> \- I really hope you guys like me hammering in that Ashe hates violence, because there’s more of that to come. I don’t think it can be understated that he’s the only unit in the game who explicitly has [violence in their dislikes section](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/14/Ashe/basics). No, seriously, not even [Dorothea](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/10/Dorothea/basics) or [Linhardt](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/7/Linhardt/basics) have that (though Lin *does* have blood as a dislike). Granted, Ashe also bizarrely lacks an injustice dislike (which [Yuri](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/1040/Yuri/basics) and [Caspar](https://fedatamine.com/en-us/characters/8/Caspar/basics) do have...), but that said, it seems particularly noteworthy that *only Ashe* has violence as a noted dislike in his bio, which I really want to delve into, so apologies for my broken record approach to that side of him.


End file.
